Revan's Rotten Holiday
by Full-Paragon
Summary: Oh dear. I seem to have awakened on a Republic ship with a smashing headache. My apprentice has betrayed me, my troops have abandoned me, and all I have is this dinky blaster. I suppose it's time to remind everyone why I am Darth Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith. What do you mean, my name is Ferc Kyja? Blast. This is going to be a rather rotten holiday.
1. Chapter 1

**Revan's Holiday**

I awoke with an absolutely pounding headache. This was in and of itself not all that unusual for me. I remembered something about a beautiful woman and vigorous exercise, and smiled faintly to myself. Good times. I should have gone darkside ages ago.

A sudden explosion bucked me off the floor, and I rubbed my head, finding an already swelling bump on top of a barely healed one. And then I remembered.

"Malak! You two timing, backstabbing, fun killing BASTARD!" I growled, sitting up and finding myself in a rather odd looking ensemble. Nothing like my normal Alderaanian silk undies, let me tell you that. And no sign of the beautiful woman, who had been a part of the jedi strike team...

"What the bloody hell is going on?" I muttered, glancing around for my lightsaber, or at the very least a mug of coffee to wake myself.

Oh come off it. You can call it whatever you want, but it's coffee. It's dark, its brown, its bitter, and it's got caffeine. I don't know what they call it on your world, but to me it will always be coffee. None of that recaf or stimtea nonsense.

Just was I was orienting myself and rubbing my aching head while cursing the sudden but inevitable betrayal of my idiot apprentice, a man burst into the room in the uniform of a Republic soldier.

"Ferc Kyja! Come on, we have to get to Bastila and get off this ship before the sith destroy us!" The man cried, hauling me to my feet.

Bastila? That name rang a bell somewhere, but I pushed it away. "Who the hell are you? And who is this Kyja fellow?" I tried to shock the bastard with lightning, but I was to disorintated still to focus the nessessary energies. Besides, once I thought about it, I was better off asking questions first and frying later.

"I'm Trask Ulgo, I'm your bunkmate, Ferc! We work opposite shifts, so that's why we've never really talked."

Was it just me, or did his eyes shift away when he said that? "Now quick, grab those weapons and we have to get to Bastila!"

I hurried over to grab the weapons. I didn't know what Trask was going on about, but I was Darth Revan. Bane of the Mandalorians, terror of the Republic, and the galaxies most eligible bachelor and premier lover. However, I was in no condition to fight off a Republic soldier, and Trask had the uniform of one of the Republics elite commandos. A master of the force like me is a weapon to be reckoned with in combat and the equal of anything alive, dead, or otherwise. However, that does not mean I can afford to be cocky. Why, one of my most promising apprentices, a lovely little thing by the name of Perki Tittos was killed by a Republic commando like this Trask fellow in a duel. Even with the force, overconfidence can easily be your doom. The galaxy will forever be lessened without Perki's massive... Charisma.

I opened the indicated footlocker, and to my disappointment found nothing more than a simple blade and a standard issue blaster along with a bottom-rack combat vest. Hardly suitable gear for a sith lord like myself.

Well, OK, that last bit is sort of a stretch. I've met the real sith, and let me tell you, those idiots are almost as bad as the jedi, maybe even worse. They're always brooding, plotting behind peoples back, and wearing far too much eyeliner. Not to mention rhapsodizing about "the allure of the darkside," whatever that means. They do however, have one tremendous advantage to my mind over the jedi: they get laid. Some of the stuffier ones don't, the ones who spend all their time getting a rush off of torturing small animals and doing petty acts of evil like stealing ice cream cones from little rodians and cackling to themselves about it, but a good number of them are deliciously kinky.

One of them, Darth Yellta, had taken me under her wing, so to speak, and shown me just why the dark side was the side for me. Or at least the side I happened to prefer. The things that woman could do with the force, and the number of latex and rubber toys she had was simply delightful. I confess, I normally prefer to be the dominate one, but with Yelta I was but the apprentice and she my wonderful mistress. If only she hadn't caught me with those twin twilek initiate twins, Malak and I could have lived our lives on the Sith home world in peace. But alas, I barely managed to get off the planet with Malak and my research and only a simple robe to cover myself. I had to feed Malak some line about going back to conquer the Republic and prove our worth and become the "true sith" and naturally the poor fool bought it hook line and sinker. Malak was always the gullible sort. And traitorous. The worm.

Anyway, back to the present, where the Republic ship I was apparently on was still under fire. I decided to forgo the armor as it hampers my more potent abilities and picked up the blaster and sword. Some jedi distain blasters, but they are remarkably effective in the hand of a force adapt. Or in the hands of any old fool really. Never under estimate the ability of complete fools to surprise you and kill you. Like for example, a backstabbing apprentice deciding to use his battleship to blow yours to bits while you were preoccupied with a jedi strike team and trying to decide whether you should kill them all, or spare Bastila for her beauty and battle meditation and introduce the pleasures of the darkside to her that the jedi masters had tried to hide.

Wait! "Bastila, is she on this ship?" I asked Trask.

He nodded, carefully studying me. I put an idiotic grin on my face, the kind favored by smugglers who think too highly of themselves and slimy business men the galaxy over. He seemed to relax a bit at that smile, and nodded. "Don't you remember? Bastila is the commanding officer of this ship! It was her battle meditation that let us ambush Darth Revan's ship and take him out. You are a recent transfer though, command thought your skills as a smuggler could be of use to us in the battle against the sith."

"Oh yes, the Republic forever and all that. I take it those nasty sith blighters are attacking us now?"

"Yes, they are. Come on, we have to rescue Bastila!" With that, Trask turned to the door tried to open it.

"Damn! The ships in security lockdown! I'll have to bypass it." He swore, taking out a rather sad looking slicer.

"Allow me," I took the slicer and easily got the door open. In my career, I discovered that there were often places others would rather I not go, and that those places often contained things I was rather fond of. Like say, credits, dirty photos, or intelligence I could use to lever some sort of advantage. As such, from an early age I cultivated an ability to get into any computer system and open any lock ever made. Even with the piece of junk slicer, I easily got the lock open without even tapping into my force abilities. You never know when solving a problem with simple wits and ordinary tools will open up paths that using the force closed off.

"Simple, when you know how," I said, pocketing the slicer. Trask had the good graces to acknowledge that the tool was likely better off in my possession.

"Come on, we have to get to the bridge!"

Single minded fellow, but for a Republic dog, not all that bad. I was still wondering why he hadn't taken one look at me and screamed, "Death to the Sith!" and tried to skewer me with that oversized nerf sticker he was carrying around at his side.

We rushed down the corridor, though I could sense a battle going on right ahead. I slowed down just a bit, allowing Trask to take the lead. It wouldn't do any good to rush into a situation where I had no idea what was going on, if my forces were still loyal to me or if they were now serving my idiotic apprentice. And of course, if there were Republic troops around the corner that were a tad more perceptive then Trask, that wouldn't do either. With no lightsaber, all it would take was a stray blaster bolt and I would be leaking precious fluids that I would just as soon stay in my body.

There were several of my troops fighting Republic soldiers, and to my shock, the sergeant took one look at Trask and myself and shouted, "More of them, cut them down men!"

For their part, the soldiers let out a ragged cheer when Trask and I approached. "Thank the force, reinforcements!" Their leader cried.

I let out a bloodthirsty roar of my own and cried, "For the, erm, Republic!"

After all, I could always find more troops, and I was going to fight on the side that didn't appear to want me dead at the moment. I stuck to the blaster, it being rather more deadly than the shoddy blade. I won't claim to be a crack shot by any means, but I am proficient enough to hit a man sized target at ten paces, force or no force. I've always told my minions that if they can't hit a target at ten meters, they themselves will be used for target practice. It's a bit of a joke, but you never know. It doesn't do to have an army that can't hit the broad side of a rancor.

The other Republic soldiers were cut down by the far more efficient sith, but Trask showed commando stripes and quickly dispatched the sergeant while I cut down the other two with my blaster. Thankfully they hadn't had any shields, and I knew all the weak places in their armor. I had paid for it, after all.

"Nice shooting!" Trask cheered. His chipper attitude really was confusing. Why on Earth would a Republic command be so enthused about having Darth Revan on his team?

I holstered my blaster. "Right. Let's get off of this sorry piece of junk as soon as we can. Let's find Bastila. I look forward to... Finishing our last discussion."

Bastila was the Republic's secret weapon. She was able to tap into the force and boost the effectiveness of an entire fleet while hampering her opponents. Even a master tactician and strategist such as myself could be stymied by the efforts of a single jedi using battle meditation, and I salivated at the thought of turning her to my side. And not just because of her battle mediation.

As we hurried along, I sensed two jedi battling. Sensing an opportunity to collar Bastila and find one of my apprentices, I broke into a sprit and slammed to button to open the door.

"A dark jedi!" Trask gasped. "We'd better stay out of this, we'll just get in the way."

The dark jedi spun away and caught a glimpse of me. "You are next, Republic scum."

So much for finding a loyal apprentice. If you can't even recognize the true Dark Lord of the sith, you don't deserve to live.

"I think not." Drawing my blaster, I fired at the would be dark jedi several time.

"Ha! Such pitiful weapons, you cannot hope to slay me!" He cried as he easily deflected the blaster shots.

"No," I admitted as the jedi skewered the fool. "But I can distract you."

Just then, I sensed an incoming attack, and dived toward the jedi, dragging her out of the danger zone.

"Wha-" She gasped, but then we were flung aside by an overloading power station.

I scrambled to my feet and helped the jedi up. "You're welcome."

She frowned at me, but then nodded. "Thank you, that explosion could have killed me."

Trask hurried forward, glancing at the fallen dark jedi. "Wow Ferc, that was impressive. I can see why the jedi wanted you aboard."

"Quite," I agreed. "Now come on." I glanced at the jedi, who limped forward. "Are you injured?"

She winced and nodded. "Yes, lucky you came along when you did, he scoured me with his lightsaber, I was on the ropes."

"Think nothing of it," I answered grandly, playing the part of the dashing rogue to the hilt. "Come on, we'll get you to Bastila and get you off the ship." Putting the jedi's arm around my shoulder, I helped her hobble out. As we passed by the fallen sith, I faked a stumble and pocketed the man's data pad and lightsaber. You never knew when extra intel or better weapons would come in handy.

We continued on toward the sound of more fighting, and I gently set my companion down. "Well mistress jedi, why don't you let Trask and I take care of this."

"No." She stated, drawing herself up and activating her lightsaber. "I am Breni Telgo, padawan of the jedi order. I shall not be slowed by my injuries."

I shrugged. Fine by me, while I would hate to lose a potential recruit, better her then me. And if she did discover who I was, I would have to kill her anyway. "You're the jedi."

We ran forward just as the last of a group of Republic defenders fell to the assault of more of my skilled commandos. To my regret, they took one look at me and opened fire. I guess that's what you get for wearing a full mediation mask all the time. No one recognizes you when you take it off. Advantageous when you're sneaking into the slave quarters for a romp with a nubile rodian, not so much when stranded behind enemy lines after your apprentice betrays you.

I quickly dispatched one with a shot to the neck, a weak point in sith armor. Breni got a pair engaged with her lightsaber, and Trask got into a duel with another commando. Opting to save the most attractive party member, I sunk around behind Breni's foes and shot both of them in the back. Not terribly sporting of me, but then again, fighting fair was never my style. In that time Trask managed to dispatch his opponent, and I bent to salvage what I could from the fallen. One of the Republic troopers was carrying a medkit, and I took it and applied it to Breni's side.

"This might sting a bit," I warned.

She bit her lip, but sighed with relief once the kolto flooded into her system. "That's much better, thank you soldier."

I recoiled in mock offense. "Solider? What do you take me for? I'm an honest smuggler."

She giggled at that, but before I could wiggle deeper into her confidence, Trask interrupted. "Come on, we don't have much time."

I sighed and nodded, and jogged after the kill joy. Even if the ship was under attack, there was always time to flirt with a cute padawan. Especially one that I thought might be susceptible to the allure of the dark side.

Trask opened the door ahead of us, and to my shock, Darth Bandon, Malak's foremost pupil strode toward us. Trask rushed in and slammed the close button, shouting, "Go, get to Bastila, I'll hold the sith!"

"No, he's too much for you!" Breni shouted, but it was too late. Trask was gone. Good though he may have been, I had no illusions that he could take Bandon in a fair fight. Or any other kind of fight for that matter.

"Come on, he's gone now," I urged. "There's no point in both of you dying. Besides, you are in no condition to take on another jedi at the moment."

Nodding reluctantly, Breni allowed herself to be dragged further down the corridor. We came to another door, but I held up a hand. I could sense a large group of foes behind the portal. "Wait, something feels off." I cautioned.

For a moment, Breni scowled, then gasped. "Yes, there are almost a dozen sith troopers behind the door. I don't know if we can take them all."

Glancing around, I spied a damaged droid and a bin of parts. "I have a plan, hold on."

In a few moments, I managed to repair the worst of the damage to the droid and get its weapons and shields functional. I had tinkered around with building droids myself, even making an assassin model I was rather proud of, if for no other reason than that HK had been one of the most entertaining companions I'd ever had. Far better than the dour, ever serious Malak, who had immediately taken offense to HK calling him "meatbag." That alone was worth the hours of effort it had taken to construct HK.

"There, that should do it." I activated the droid and set it to patrol through the portal and grinned at Breni. "Normally I'd say ladies first, but in this case I'll make an exception."

She grinned at me and winked. "I appreciate it."

The droid did the trick, catching our opponents off guard and giving me time to sneak around and shoot several of them in the back. Breni stayed behind the droid, knocking over several troopers with force attacks. She wasn't half bad really, and with proper training might even make a proper sorceress.

"That's the last of them," Breni panted, holding her wounded side again.

I nodded and slipped her arm around my shoulder again. "You did well, most jedi don't seem to have the skill necessary to take out so many foes so quickly."

Breni frowned and looked away. "I know, I've always struggled with my anger. After seeing Trask sacrifice himself, I felt like I wanted to kill every sith in the world. My master is always cautioning me against that."

I shrugged as we limped along. "I'm no jedi master, but it seems to me that if your anger is what's keeping us alive, that's a good thing. I've always been fond of my emotions myself. Especially lust. That's a good one."

That got a squawk of startled indignation out of Breni, but she didn't tell me to stop helping her. Progress! We continued on to the bridge, where I sensed more foes. I kept silent though, it wouldn't do for Breni to get suspicious.

"Wait, there's more of them inside," She panted.

"Really? I have just the thing." I pulled out two grenades I had salvaged from the fallen commandos; they were technically mine after all.

One gratuitous explosion later, the bridge was clear of pesky traitors and Republic troopers. We hurried inside, and Breni groaned in frustration. "No, Bastila and the other jedi are already gone!"

The ship rocked with further hits, and I checked the course, then glanced out the view port. "We don't have much time. We're on a collision course for that planet."

Breni nodded, biting her lip again. She was just so cute when she did that. I looked forward to educating her. "Right, come on then, the escape pods are this way."

We continued along, fighting a couple more groups of sith, but not seeing any further Republic troops. I almost felt bad for having to kill so many of my own men. Normally I left the idiotic execution of our own troops to Malak, preferring to use other means of extorting my men and encouraging them to do better. No one ever learned from their mistakes if you killed them after they screwed up, and its simply terrible personal management. No one will want to work for you if they know your liable to force choke them at the drop of a pin. Just because you aren't a light side fairy doesn't mean you have to be a stupidly evil twat either.

Finally, we reached the escape pods, where another survivor was waiting. "I'm Carth Onasi, I've been monitoring your progress. You're the last two. Come on we have to take the remaining escape pod."

Together, Carth and I loaded Breni into the escape pod and bade farewell to the Endar Spire.

I started. Just how the bloody hell did I know the name of the ship? I groaned softly as we fell toward the plant. This was turning out to be a rather rotten holiday.

_Authors Note:_

_A little something I wrote while I was bored at a hotel. Hope you enjoyed it!_

_Yes, I'm aware canonically Breni should be a jedi master. However, that doesn't really make any sense, as a jedi master should have seen that explosion coming. Hence her downgrade to padawan. _


	2. Chapter 2

I will say this, Carth's piloting skills are top notch. Sadly, said top notch piloting skills only do so much good when a damaged lifepod is careening toward a planet at lethal speeds.

"Hold on, this might be a rough landing!" Carth shouted.

It what might be my last moments, I clung to Breni, giving her a quick squeeze. She stiffened at first, then molded herself to me. My only regret was that I hadn't killed Malak, or made it with those twilek twins. There was a flash, then blinding pain.

_I'm on the bridge of my flagship, Judicator. A jedi strike team has boarded and killed off my apprentices. I've thinned their numbers, but Bastila and the others remain. I can take them, I've killed their two best duelists already. I'm deciding if I should try and spare Bastila, take her battle meditation for myself, when an explosion hurls me to the deck. Malak has betrayed me. _

_But I am Darth Revan. And I'll have my revenge. _

_My dream shifts. I am barely conscious, clinging on to the waking world only by my connection to the force. Bastila and the remaining jedi hover over me, forcing new memories into my mind, repressing the old ones. As Revan faded, Ferc Kyja took his place. _

Waking was painful, but I forced myself to sit up and look around.

"Hey, you're awake."

I glanced over and found Breni staring at me. She had a bandage around her head, but she looked down at me worriedly. Rather un-jedi like really.

"Yes, sadly." I groaned, reaching for my pants. "You alright?"

She nodded, biting her lip again. "You saved my life, and almost got yourself killed in the process. You shielded me with your body. It's not what I expected from... From a smuggler."

From a sith was what she meant. "You know," I said, taking Breni's hand in mine, "not everything can be learned in a jedi temple. There are more important things then cold logic and the force. Like love."

Or lust really. That one works pretty good too.

Breni looked like she was about ready to take the plunge into the fun side when Carth walked in. "Oh good," the cock blocker said, "I was getting worried. You look like you've had some pretty serious head injuries lately. Breni's hardly left your side these past few days, though she was pretty banged up herself. We've had to lay low for a few days while the sith comb the planet. They're looking for Bastila."

"Really?" I was sort of surprised. I mean, Bastila was a prime target, but I figured my wayward apprentice would be trying to finish the job. Unless he thought I really was dead.

I slow grin spread over my face. Being dead would definitely be to my advantage. If no one but a handful of jedi knew the truth and were apparently trying to keep it under wraps...

"Well then, no time to waste. Hand me that med kit. We're finding Bastila."

When Carth and Breni turned away, I quickly tapped into the force and set about knitting my wounds. It was harder than it once had been, but still not impossible. By the time the kolto was applied, I was well on my way back to being up to full strength. I reached into my pack as well, and felt the reassuring grip of the lightsaber I had scavenged along with the blaster I had found. At least I had something I could rely on.

Once I was treated, Breni put on a combat vest and grabbed a sword, a lightsaber being just the kind of attention we wanted to avoid. Even if both Breni and I were at 100%, a padawan and the Dark Lord of the Sith were not up to taking on an army of sith or an orbital bombardment, not even with a capable man like Carth at our side.

We walked out into the apartment block in time to see two of my men roughing up aliens. Well, Malaks men. The giant moron. He always was a racist ass. Me, I loved aliens. Especially nubile ones with lots of curves. And I didn't exactly have a problem with the others either. All would have a place in my Empire, none higher than others. Save me, naturally.

"Trooper, what are you doing?" I barked, forgetting just who I was supposed to be momentarily. Petty acts of evil like that always irritated me. How were you supposed to unite a populace behind you if they were busy uniting against you?

The officer turned to me and sneered. "Another alien lover? We'll teach you to-"

I drew out the red lightsaber and calmly lit it up. "Do what, exactly?"

The troopers suddenly knelt, the officer's dark skin flushing. "My, my lord, we were searching for the jedi. These alien scum are the likeliest ones to be hiding them."

I sighed and such my head. "When will you fools learn you get ten times as much reliable information when you use both a stick and a sweet as when you use only stick?"

Walking over to the duros, I said in their language, "Listen, that fool will gun you down like dogs if you don't give us some intel. Surely you've heard of something? If you have, I'm certain we can arrange a reward for you."

One of the duros made as if to give an angry response, but the other put his arm out and stepped forward. "We have heard that there are jedi hiding out in the lower city. Perhaps you could start there."

"Excellent!" I exclaimed, clapping the duros on the back. "Lieutenant, five credits for each of them. Continue your sweep. My apprentice and I shall deal with this ourselves."

"Erm, yes." The officer stumbled forward with his two lackeys, and as soon as their backs were to me I put away the lightsaber, drew my blaster and shot each of them neatly in the back of the head.

I retrieved their weapons and credits and tossed half of the chits to the duros. "Hide the bodies. If anyone asks, they were murdered by rodians."

The irritable duros glanced down at the credits in his hand, then pocketed them. "Of course. Thank you."

As my companions and I walked away, Breni asked, "Ferc, was killing them really necessary? And where did you get that lightsaber?"

"In answer to your second question, I palmed it off that dark jedi you fought. Would you care to answer the second Carth?" I said as we walked along the dingy corridor. Obviously this was not the Ritz, but these apartment blocks had seen better days. The paint was old and faded and peeling in places, and the droids that were maintaining the place were so dilapidated themselves they were likely doing more harm than good.

"They had seen our faces, and the fact that Ferc had a lightsaber. As soon as they reported to their superiors, they would know something was up," Carth explained.

I nodded cheerily. "Good man. Remember Breni, death solves all problems for all men. No man, no problem."

"So you're saying violence is always the best answer?" Breni coldly retorted. "You sound like a sith."

Considering I fancied myself the true Dark Lord of the Sith, that was a compliment. "No Breni," I explained patiently," only that violence is always a solution, but not always the best solution. Didn't your masters remember that jedi carry lightsabers for a reason? It's just a neat can opener and nightlight for me, but I've seen you use yours to take a life. Be careful when you do though, death is rather final, so make sure that you truly are willing to accept all the consequences when you do so."

"That sounds very wise," Breni admitted.

I turned and gave her my second most roguish grin, the one that said we were going to have such fun together while I waggled my eyebrows. "Indeed. I read it off the back of a pazak deck once."

Carth snorted humorously at that, and Breni bit her lip in that endearing fashion of hers while holding back a laugh.

We got out onto the main bolivard, and I realized I had no idea where I was. I leaned in close to Carth and whispered, "Just what backwater are we on currently? Looks sort of run down, like it used to be some place."

Carth nodded. "Taris used to be on a major trade route, but a new hyperspace route was discovered and the planet's fallen on hard times."

"Ah, yes, Taris. Not a terribly important planet, but plenty of place to hide. Finding Bastila will be a bother," I muttered. If I remembered correctly, and my memory wasn't the best these days, Taris was a giza warren with layers upon layers of city over large swaths of the planet. Good for us since Malak's cronies would have a devil of a time finding us, bad because we would struggle to find Bastila.

"I think I can help," Breni offered. "I can use the force to guide us."

I shook my head. "Bad idea. If you use the force, Malak will sense it, or one of his followers will sense it. Better to use our wits. That's the problem with you jedi, always using the force to solve problems your own common sense could easily unravel."

In what had to be an attempt to pull of that pseudo mystical jedi master persona, Breni hooded her eyes and crypitically stated, "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

By the holocrons, that was an old one. I rolled my eyes and glanced at Carth. He shrugged. "Ferc is right Breni. We need to avoid unwanted attention, and a jedi channeling the force would probably lead the sith right to us. We'll have to track Bastila down on our own."

I beamed at Carth, who snorted and started off. I linked arms with Breni and led her after our sullen leader. "See? We're going to have an adventure together Breni! What fun!"

And if there was any justice in the galaxy, this adventure would end with my lightsaber up Malak's rear exhaust port.

After a short walk, we made our way to the elevator to the lower city where a guard was posted. "This area is off limits. Present your authorization or get out of here before I start shooting."

"Relax," I said, raising my hands in a calming gesture. "We just want to go down to slum it for a bit, find a few good dives. No harm in that right?"

In response, the guard pointed his blaster at me, an uncomfortable position to be sure. "No authorization, no passage. Now get lost, or get dead!"

Bowing in acquiescence, I turned away and led my companions a good distance off, then casually leaned against a wall and nodded to the guard. "Carth, can you see any good way to get past him?"

After a moments study, Carth shook his head. "No way. Those heavy blaster turrets would rip us to shreds, even if Breni used her jedi powers and lightsaber. And if we did get past him, the alarms would have a dozen patrols on us in a few minutes."

"Sounds about right," I agreed. "Come on, we'll have to find another way down, or a way to get authorization."

We wandered about for a while, and I taught Breni how to perform petty theft while coming off as a hero. I broke into several apartments while stating that I was a part of the Taris anti-alien patrol (the planet was modeled after Malak's own petty racist views) and that their apartments were not fitted with the latest mandatory upgrades. Carth then handed them the number of the local sith garrison and explained the dangers of the local aliens while Breni and I did an "inspection tour" in which we liberated any valuables that were not nailed down, and several that were.

At first, Breni was a bit reluctant. "Isn't it wrong to steal from these people? I hardly think my masters would approve."

Carth was able to provide an excellent justification beyond my own "I feel better when I'm richer."

"We're trapped behind enemy lines Breni. As soldiers of the Republic, it's our duty to do whatever we can to return to safety with our comrades. To do that, we're going to need funds and supplies. If these people knew who we were, they would give them willingly as friends of the Republic. If they wouldn't, they're sith sympathizers and it's our duty to hinder their efforts by stealing our foes supplies." Carth explained.

I nodded seriously. "Exactly. We need to fight the good fight. Now hold my blaster, let me show you how to slice a security system."

Once we had liberated enough credits and beaten up a few thugs, we made our way to the local emporium. The proprietor was more than happy to take our ill gotten gains off of our hands, and I set about haggling for better weapons and armor. I outfitted Breni with a sturdy echani vest and vibroblade, weapons that her jedi training had suited her for. Carth got a heavy blaster and some high quality mod armor, while I picked out two hold out blasters. They were powerful for their size, and accurate as well. Normally, if you're going to use two weapons like Carth does, it's so you can put as many rounds in the air as possible while you pray some of them actually hit something. Unless, that is, you happen to be a force sensitive like me. Then you could shift the odds, just a bit, and turn them into twin weapons of destruction. My favored weapons were lightsabers naturally, two short blades for quick, precise strikes. However, I was no longer Darth Revan but Ferc Kyja. Ferc seemed like the sort of chap to fight dirty and from range.

Well armed and with plenty of med packs, spare parts and slicers, we bid farewell to the emporium and headed for the cantina.

"The best place to get information is where ever alcohol is served," I explained to Breni. "Just keep up the tough merc act. Remember, you are not a jedi of any stripe."

"Is that why my lightsaber is in your pack?" She whispered, glaring at me. It had been hard to get it from her, but she was simply to found of the thing.

I nodded sagely. "Quite. You extrude that jedi air, where as me, I can claim it's a trophy. Who would ever think a scoundrel like me was a jedi?"

She laughed nervously at that, and I nodded to myself. She was in on my true identity alright. It would make subverting her a bit more difficult, but I could manage it. She was slipping already, enjoying stealing from innocents, letting herself go a bit, and not blushing quite so much from my rather obvious leers. Once she realized the dark side could get you laid, she would be all mine.

No, really. Half of the jedi I recruited signed on not for the power or glory, but because they had so much pent up sexual frustration they were ready to do ANYTHING to relieve the pressure. Why do you think old jedi are so stuffy all the time? None of them have gotten any action, ever. Not the life for me, no sir.

We walked inside, and I felt the tension drain from me. This was my sort of place, and it had been far too long since I could go incognito in a bar. I used to go with my troops, back during the Mandalorian War, to improve moral (theirs and mine) and remind everyone just why we fought. Good food, good drinks, and a pretty girl. Or a handsome lad. More than a few ladies in my ranks. Equal opportunity oppressor, that's me!

As I strode through the dim, smoky atmosphere, I noticed an old man with a warn pazak deck with a sign that said, "For sale, one pazak deck with basic side deck. Free lesson with purchase."

"You two go on, I'll do some scouting here." I said, waving Breni and Carth on. I sidled up to the old man and slapped down the credits. "I've been in need of a deck, lost mine to a customs inspector that was far too thorough. "

The man glanced up at me and chuckled. "You don't look like you're in need of any lessons son. Why don't you go wipe the smug grin off of Niklos's face. He thinks he's some hot shot Pazak player, but that young wipper snapper has no skill. He's just bought some of the best cards around. Bribing his way to victory if you will."

I winked and nodded, spying the man in question on the opposite wall. "Well then, maybe I should prove skill beats cash every day of the week."

I sauntered on over to Niklos and slapped down my deck. "I hear that you're some sort of hotshot pazak player. Care to try a hand against a real opponent?"

Niklos glanced up and gave me a lazy grin. "Of course, of course. Though I doubt someone such as yourself could ever give me a real challenge."

I seated myself across from him and hit the shuffler on my cards. "We'll see. I've always enjoyed taking an arrogant upper class twit down a few notches."

He just sneered in reply and shuffled his own cards, passing them to me to cut. He cut my cards, and we drew our four cards. Esh. This was a pretty crap hand, but I wasn't worried. Often times, you can get your opponent to put himself into a losing position if you are smart. The trick is wait until you're getting the low cards while he gets the high. If he goes over and doesn't have the cards to burn, it's easy peasy for you.

The old man's assessment of Niklos had been spot on. He had good cards to be sure, but he had no idea how to play them, burning cards on hands he could have won without them or holding them back when it would have been best to play aggressively. All I had to do was flash my cards at the right moment, and Niklos would panic and over play, leading to his demise. After a few rounds, the pile of credits in front of me had grown nicely.

"Been fun Niklos, but I've got places to go and prettier faces then yours to admire," I said, scooping my winnings into my pouch.

"Bah!" Nkilos fumed. "These cards are no good! I shall have to get better ones!"

I chuckled, giving the poor sap a mocking salute and sauntering into the main bar. There was a rather bland crowd, all humans, mostly civilians with a few off duty sith. I sat down at a table with a cut sith officer and grinned at her while I flashed a credit chit. "Buy a pretty lady a drink?" I offered.

My companion started, then smiled. "Why thank you. Good to see someone who doesn't quake in their boots at the sight of a sith."

"Different parts of me are quacking at the sight of you," I replied, motioning to the bartender to bring us over some drinks. I turned back and raised my glass. "Ferc Kyja, legitimate trader."

"Sarna, despicable sith minion," Sarna giggled, raising her own glass.

We drank, and I smacked my lips in application. "Good booze and fine women, nothing better! Perhaps being quarantined on this planet isn't so bad after all!"

Actually, it was still rather annoying that Malak had enforced a quarantine, but I couldn't blame Sarna for that, not if I wanted to get any information off of her or get into her pants that is.

Sarna wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, you think it's bad for you, try being stuck her with your superiors breathing down your neck to find a bunch of stupid jedi. Honestly, they probably died on the way down or got murdered by the gangs in the lower city. What a waste of resources."

I was inclined to disagree, Bastila was worth several fleets, and as long as I was alive Malak's hold on the throne was tenuous at best. But no need to share that information.

"I can sympathize. Hard to smuggle anything while I'm stuck on a backwater like this. Nothing interesting to do around here in the mean time," I agreed.

Glancing around, Sarna leaned in closer to me. "Well, a few of us are having a little party in the upper class apartments in a bit. Why don't you come along? You seem like an interesting sort, better than the locals by far."

I gave my most lecherous smile. "Why yes, that does sound quite interesting indeed."

I won't bore you with the details, but I will say that Sarna and her friends did indeed know how to party. Quite well in fact. Sarna and I were laying on the bed in the in bedroom, naked and sweaty with our clothes strewn about the floor, when I reached over and tickled her under her arm pit, getting a squeak of indignation for my efforts. I rolled on top of her and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"Tell me, do you know what happened to Lord Revan?" I whispered, nibbling at Sarna's ear.

She moaned softly, then slurred, "Didn't you hear? The jedi killed Revan when they blew up his flagship. That's why Lord Malak is in charge now. I should know, I'm a captain. Malak was very clear, Revan is dead."

Now that was information worth knowing. So Malak thought his assassination attempt had succeeded did he? Well, that was another advantage for me than.

I looked deep into Sarna's eyes, pressing my weight down on her. "My idiot apprentice lied, or at least he doesn't know the truth. I am alive. Lord Revan is alive."

Taking hold of the force, I rather roughly cleansed the alcohol from Sarna's body while I rather painfully stimulated her memory.

"Know me for who I truly am Sarna, and serve your true master!" I hissed, pressing my weight down on her naked flesh.

Wriggling in terror, Sarna gasped in pain. "My, my lord, I am sorry, I thought you dead! I did not know! Forgive me!"

Gently, I cupped her breast while stimulated her brains pleasure centers. "Oh, I am not displeased with you Sarna. But currently, I am in hiding, and I need your help. I must find Bastila before Malak's cronies can and reassert my rightful place. This presents a unique opportunity. My foes believe me dead, save for the jedi, who believe me neutered. You will serve me, Sarna, and serve me well. Now I must get into the lower city. I need authorization papers and uniforms. We're going to steal everyone's here, and you will no longer be Sarna, sith captain. You shall be Sarna, traitor to the sith and republic sympathizer."

Nodding franticly, Sarna quickly agreed. "Of course my lord, I shall do whatever you wish! I am your faithful servant!"

I grinned wickedly and set a small electrical jolt into her warm, moist neither regions. "Anything?" I asked lecherously.

A coy grin spread across Sarna's face. "Anything at all my lord. I am yours."

Around two hours later, Sarna and I arrived at our hideout, loaded down with sith uniforms. "Good news everyone!" I called happily, startling Breni and Carth who had been eating a meal of ration bars at the makeshift table. "I've figured out a way to put ourselves in horrendous danger for minimal gain!"

Wiping crumbs from his mouth, Carth slowly nodded. "And who's your companion?"

"Sarna, Lieutenant in the sith fleet. And sister to a brother murdered by the traitorous Malak."

A strange fire lit in Carth's eyes. "You want revenge against the sith for murdering your family?"

Sarna nodded. Using the same techniques the jedi had used on me, I had made her believe her brother really had been onboard my ship and been murdered by Malak's attack. A cover story was all well and good when it was a lie, but the extra level of sincerity here was well worth the risk of detection. Besides, now I had Sarna's absolute loyalty on every level. She would sooner take her own life then betray me. All it had taken was a few new memories and a bit of hanky panky.

"Welcome to the winning side." Breni said, shaking Sarna's hand.

I held back an evil laugh. Breni, you really have no idea.


	3. Chapter 3

Trooping through the Upper City of Taris, I had to admit, our column looked rather impressive. I had armed everyone with standard sith weapons and armor, not anything amazing, but well above what street trash was likely to have. This time, the idiot guard presented no problems, saluting Lieutenant Sarna and passing us right through. I had even sliced into the sith's network using names officers data pad and listed us as new recruits. Robbum Blinde, Derk Sihde Suks, and Ceekret Jehdi. I never said they were good cover names, but they were amusing.

We rode the elevator down, and on the way I had everyone strip and change into standard armor and street clothes. It wouldn't do to attract unwanted attention, or scare off Bastila if she happened to see us. We were faithful little Republicans, here to save the day. Ugh. It was mildly sickening.

We hadn't gone far before we stumbled upon a little gang war. A group of nikto were taking down a group of mixed species, and while the other side was putting up a decent fight, the nikto clearly had the upper hand. In a few short seconds, the mixed gang was dead, and I raised my blaster and plugged one of the nikto in the back.

"Cut then down!" I shouted, and Sarna raised her blaster and put it on full auto, spraying down the criminals. Carth took care of the survivors with his barrage of blaster fire. Breni, force bless her, bent down and scavenged the bodies. I had never felt so proud of an apprentice. Why couldn't Malak have ever learned how to appreciate the finer things in life? Then he would have known better than to turn on me. Honestly, he had nearly as much power as I did, what more could the buffoon want?

I patted Breni's rear when she returned, grinning widely. "Excellent work, my young apprentice. We'll make a proper scoundrel out of you in no time!"

Blushing furiously ,Breni did her best to act indignant, but she really couldn't pull it off when holding a double armful of dead gangsters possessions. "I'm only taking the resources we need to find Bastila!"

I nodded sagely. "Of course. I'm sure your masters would be proud."

Hmm, that was a bit too far, now Breni really did look regretful. It was always tricky to judge just how far and how fast to press someone. Press too far too fast and you would have them turned against you forever. Go to slow and they would never be useful to you. A fine edge to walk.

I scooped the weapons and supplies out of Breni's arm and distributed them for the others packs. "Well come on, Bastila isn't going to find herself, and the sith are still out there looking for her."

Sarna nearly broke our cover, but managed to turn her nervous giggle into a cough. I would have to talk to her about that one. No, not torture her, talk. People respond remarkably well to a little positive reinforcement every once in a while. Torture should be reserved for avoidable acts of stupidity, not for minor screw ups or near misses. It's rather moronic to punish all failures equally.

We continued on to a cantina with a bouncer outside and stepped inside. This was a far seedier establishment then the one in the upper city. While the upper city establishment had smelled of smoke and liquor, this one smelled of stale beer and piss, with blaster scouring on the walls and flickering lights that had seen better days. The patrons smelled of sweat and drugs and there were as many aliens as humans. One man caught my eye though. His gear was worn, but well maintained and of high quality. He had thick goggles on, which I recognized as Czerka Multi-Spectrum Weakness Analyzers. Expensive gear. His pistols were holdouts like my own, but of much higher quality and caliber. Highly illegal too. That could mean only one thing: Calo Nord, an infamous bounty hunter who worked for the exchange. A dangerous man. I wondered if there was a way to turn him to my side, he could be a powerful ally.

Two rodians walked up and began to taunt Calo, but I ignored their words and focused on Calo. He was counting down, and I guessed he intended to end this confrontation in violence. Sure enough, when he reached the end of his count, he drew his blasters almost faster than the eye could see. If I had not been watching carefully, I think I would have missed it. There was no force trickery involved, Calo was just that good. In moments, both rodians were nothing but smears on the floor and there were new blaster scours on the cantina walls.

As Calo left, I stepped into his path with a wide grin. "Impressive work. Could I buy you a drink? I have a business preposition for you."

All Calo said was, "Three."

I frowned. This wasn't how I had pictured things going. "Now come my friend, surely we can talk business, there's no need to be rude."

"Two," the bounty hunter replied, unflinching.

Now I was angry. Here was more senseless, arrogant violence. It was idiocy like this that had lead to my apprentices betrayal. "Last chance Calo. Be reasonable, or pay the price."

"One."

I loosened the small blade I had stuffed up my sleeve and narrowed my eyes. "Zero."

Calo moved like lightening, but no one as better than the Dark Lord of the Sith. I sliced upward, aiming for Calo's jugular. He flinched back, just as I figured he would. The holdout blaster I had already drawn was pressed up against his belly. I fired three times.

Calo bucked, and blood frothed up on his lips. "Bad move," I hissed. "I hate arrogance." I brought my blade back around and I casually sliced Calo's juggular, letting him slide to the ground beside the rodians he had murdered seconds before.

The cantina was dead silent, all eyes were on me and my little band. I casually bent down and took Calo's two top of the line blasters, the grabbed his rather substantial credit chit and tossed it to the bartender.

"Sorry about the mess," I casually stated. "Drinks are on me."

A ragged cheer went up, and I led my group over to the bar where I began to drink moodily. My lot in life had rather changed recently. I had gone from being able to sit in the lap of luxery and enjoy all the pleasures of life the jedi order had denied me, to resorting to hooking up with desperate junior officers and getting in bar brawls. It was going to be a long, painful road back to the top, and I had thought I had surpassed the need for hard work. Reality was rather depressing.

"Wow, that was some pretty impressive stuff!" A chipper female voice said, sliding onto the seat behind me. "Calo Nord is the most dangerous bounty on the planet! You must be pretty tough if you can take him out."

I turned to see the smiling face of a fetching twilek who was a rather lovely shade of blue. Swallowing my self-pity, I gave her a dashing grin. "Oh, I just got lucky I guess. I've always been that way, lucky that is."

"I know what you mean, I've always been pretty lucky myself. My name's Mission Vao, what's yours?"

"Darth Revan." I said seriously. Behind me, I heard Breni begin to sputter and choke on her drink. Tch. The girl was far too high strung. We would have to see about loosening her up a bit soon.

For a moment, Mission and I regarded each other seriously, then both burst out laughing.

"Oh man," she gasped, wiping away a few tears, "that's pretty good. Darth Revan! Everyone knows he got killed by the jedi. That's why the sith have locked down the planet to find them."

I nodded. "Indeed. I'm Ferc Kyja. I'd be rather interested to hear about those missing jedi."

Mission shrugged and knocked back her shot. "Eh, I don't know too much about jedi, but I did hear that a pod crashed down in the undercity. Probably one of them sneaking around down there with the rakghouls."

"Rakghouls?" I asked, genuinely curious now.

"Yeah, ugly flesh eating mutants. If you get bit by one, they say you turn into one. The sith apparently have a cure for it though, but they're not handing it out to anyway."

A good plan. Personally, I would prefer to make as many credits off a cure as I could, and hold a cure in reserve for my own personnel. Perhaps I could see about weaponizing this rakghoul plague at some point. Might come in handy. However, the thought of Bastila being turned into a flesh eating mutant was not a pleasant one.

"Do you think the jedi might have gotten bitten by a rakghoul?" I queried.

Mission shook her head. "Naw, Big Z and I go down into the undercity all the time, and if you're smart and careful, rakghouls really aren't that dangerous."

"A cute little thing like you down there all alone? Sounds dangerous." I teasted.

Mission winked at me. "Hey, I'm fourteen, I can take care of myself. Besides, I've got Big Z with me. He can take any rakghoul."

Damn. Fourteen? You know, I have to draw the line somewhere, and pedophilia is where it is. Oh well, that didn't mean I couldn't find some use for this young twilek. "And who is this 'Big Z?'"

"Oh, that's him over there." Mission pointed to a wookie that was lurking in the shadows, keeping a watchful eye on his young charge. I waved merrily to him to show I meant no harm, and he glared right back.

Let me tell you something about wookies. They are big, they are strong, they are tough, and they are one of the more force resistant species I have encounter. A lot of people mistake them for barbaric savages, but the truth is you don't really need all that high a level of technology when you can literally rip a gamorian limb from limb. They're also quite a bit smarter then they look or sound. Just because someone can't speak Basic doesn't mean they are not fully capable of high level thinking.

I turned back to Mission. "Any idea how I could get down into the undercity?"

"Well, you might consider talking to Old Gadon. He's in charge of the Hidden Beks. He knows how to get around, and can probably help you out."

I nodded my thanks and stood, motioning to my companions. "Thank you Mission, that was rather helpful. Perhaps we shall meet again."

We left the cantina and made our way through the slums, occasionally being accosted my more nikto gang members. Really, it was rather silly of them. I mean honestly, we were possibly the most well armed party short of a sith commando unit to come through here with. Either the nikto were just stupid or suicidal. Still, I appreciated the contributions of the morons to our coffers, though I could have done without the singes to my tunic.

Before long I spied a building covered with gang markings identifying it as the hide out of the Hidden Beks. Though really, it was so gaudy they might as well have called themselves the "Obvious Beks" or the "We're right here Beks." It was covered with the neon colors of cheap spray paint in various slogans and mottos as well as the strange hand covering an eye sigil they seemed to favor.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" An armed guard demanded, waving a stun baton in our general direction.

"We were wondering if you would like to buy some Naboobian Spice Cakes to support your local Space Cadets," I answered.

The guard hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting back and forth between us. "If you're with the Vulcar's, clear out. You don't want the sort of heat we can bring down on your heads."

I nodded sagely. "Oh yes, your men seem rather adapt at dying. Though really, what I'm interested in is getting down to the Undercity and any information you have on any missing Republic troops. And especially jedi."

"And why should we help you?" The guard demanded, thrusting her jaw out obstinately.

"Because you're good citizens of the neighborhood?" I guessed, giving her a winning smile. "Or maybe because you hate the sith for cramping your style and we happen to have a mutual interest in seeing them out of your turf."

That last bit was a guess on my part. Most planets I conquered had gangsters like these who felt strongly about my troops going in to their territory. Normally I would convert or exterminate them as the situation demanded, but for now I was interested in being as much a thorn in Malak's side as possible.

"Hmph. If you are interested in helping us against the sith, go inside and speak to Gadon. But watch your smart mouth. I might tolerate it, but Gabon won't."

I bowed to hear and led my party forth. Glancing around, I could tell that the guard's threats were actually somewhat serious. There were definitely enough Beks here to wipe us out unless I busted out the lightsabers in my pack and went dark lord on everyone, but I had a feeling Malak would probably sense that and an orbital strike would follow up shortly thereafter. A losing proposition either way.

The man in charge was painfully obvious, sitting on a makeshift throne that appeared to be a converted swoopbike seat with a twilek bodyguard at his side. In fact, unless I was much mistaken, this was Gadon Thek, something of a hero during the Mandalorian war. His hit and run tactics against the Mandalorians had been inspired. While well equipped to deal with conventional forces, the Mandalorian's ritualistic and glory seeking approach to combat had left them vulnerable to feints, traps and guerrilla warfare. True they tended to respond to those things with excessive force, but if you were willing to stay mobile and not covet any particular terrain, those tactics would eventually grind the Mandalorian's into dust. I should know, it's how I beat them.

Fortunately, I had never actually met Gadon before, and any pictures he would have seen of me would have been with my trademark mask and cape. In hindsight, perhaps a somewhat more distinguishable profile would have been preferable.

I strode forward confidently, Carth and Sarna at my side. Around me the Beks readied themselves for war. Swoop bikes were being mounted with basters, vibroblades were being tested, and armor was being pieced together from bits of plasteel and durasteel. Either this gang war was more serious than I thought, or the Beks were about to take their conflict with the Vulkars to the next level.

"Gadon Thek?" I asked, layering my voice with plenty of enthusiasm tempered by respect.

The bodyguard moved to interpose herself. She was quite the looker, with lots of sleek muscle and movements that spoke of years of experience of all sorts. "Who are you? Why are you hear. No one gets near Gadon without my permission."

"Calm yourself Zaerdra!" Gadon barked. "I can't have you biting the heads off of anyone who walks in here."

"They might be with the sith, or even the Black Vulcars. You have a lot of enemies Gadon," Zaerdra proteted.

"To be fair, we are with this sith," I admitted. "Sort of."

Carth rolled his eyes. "Speak for yourself Ferc. I'm still loyal to the Republic."

"Oh yes, fidelity forever and all that," I agreed absently. "Point is, you look like your getting ready for war Gadon. And I happen to be in possession of several sith uniforms. Perhaps we can broker an exchange."

"How do we know-" Zaerdra began, but Gadon silenced her with a gesture.

"What do you mean, you're with the sith, and what do you want?" Gadon demanded.

I gave him a dashing smile. "Simple really. I want a way down into the undercity. Sarna here is a disgruntled sith defector, and we are poor beleaguered members of the Republic who had the misfortune to crash land on this planet. I've heard of you Gadon, you single handedly resisted the Mandalorians for months after the last official Tarisian forces surrendered. If I know you, you're trying to unite the gangs under your banner and start another of your famous campaigns. With my uniforms, I think you will have a starting block for the infiltration and sabotage you favor. All I ask in return is any information regarding Republic fugitives, especially jedi, and a way down into the undercity for myself and my companions."

Gadon's eyes narrowed, which was actually kind of hilarious, because he was obviously blind as a bat,. His furious glare was focused at a point about two feet to my left. Rather intimidating for my invisible friend George, but for me not so much. "You seem to know an awful lot about me. Who are you?"

"Just a simple smuggler who spends far too much time in cantinas." I repiled, giving the old man a grin he couldn't see out of habit. "Carth here is a Republic veteran, he told me of your exploits."

To his credit, Carth was able to play along with no problems. "Yes, heard about your resistance in the Republic army. You were one of the few factions to last any time at all after the initial Mandalorian invasion. Given enough time, you might even have successfully liberated your own planet."

"Only for the sith to come by and do the same thing a few years later," Gadon snorted. "Alright, let's say I believe you. Why do you want to go down into the undercity?"

"My fellow jedi, Bastila Shan's escape pod may have crashed there," Breni explained, and I closed my eyes in quiet frustration. That was not a card I would have liked to have on the table. "We seek to rescue her before the sith or another gang gets to her."

Gadon slowly shook his head. "I'm afraid you are too late. The sith have already been there, but they didn't find Bastila. The Vulcar's did."

I winced. "Let me guess, they either have her bottled up in a little fortress like this, or hidden somewhere it would take weeks for us to find?"

"That's pretty much it," Gadon agreed. "However, she is being offered as a prize in the Tarisian Season Opener. If you could win the opener, you would have your jedi."

I groaned. There are a great many things I excel at. Pazak, opening locked doors, killing things, sex, the force, and a thousand other minutia. Piloting vehicles is not one of them. In fact, I'm rather horrible at it. I am loath to admit it, but I actually get motion sick if I try and fly my own craft. It wasn't a big deal in the past, Malak or one of my other lackys always took care of that sort of thing, but now we were in a bit of a bind. Mostly because I already knew what Gadok's next request would be.

"Don't tell me," I sighed, "you want me to help you win the race. Probably by flying some sort of incredibly dangerous contraption."

Gadon smiled at Invisible George. "Sort of. I think we can both help each other. You see, we developed a prototype accelerator that would blow the competition out of the water. Unfortunately, the Black Vulkars found out and raided the warehouse where we were hiding it. If you could infiltrate their base and get it back for us, I'd let you use to win back your friend."

"The infiltrating bit we might can do," I allowed," but I don't have any experience as a pilot, and I doubt any of my companions are swoop bike aces."

"Um," Breni's voice began, and we all turned to look at the furiously blushing padawan. "Actually, I'm pretty good on a swoop bike. My old master used one to get around, and he taught me how to ride. I haven't competed in races or anything, but I can fly one."

"With your force abilities, you might have the edge over any other riders," Carth mused. "I can't swoop bike all that well myself, I get motion sick."

"Aren't you a pilot?" Sarna asked, frowning slightly. "What kind of a pilot get's motion sick?"

"Hey, it only happens I'm close to the ground," Carth protested. "I'm fine in a vacuum."

Ignoring my companions banter, I turned back to Gadon, who was still staring at George. "Well, it appears I do have a pilot. How do I get about infiltrating the Vulkar base?"

"Going through the front door would be suicide," Zaerdra explained. "You'll have to go in through the back way, down in the undercity sewers." Ah, lovely. Nothing says fun times like tromping through excrement of new and fascinating varieties. "However, the only one who knows how to get in that way is Mission Vao. She's probably down in the Undercity right now actually, she and her wookie companion spend a great deal of time scavenging down there. Foolish with all those rakghouls if you ask me, but then again I don't have a pet wookie."

"I actually ran into Mission earlier. I think I can enlist her aid without too much trouble." I mused.

Gadon smiled at George. Those two really seemed to get along. "Good, good. Now, if you'll just hand over those uniforms, I can give you some signed papers saying your civilians contractors authorized to go down into the undercity. That should get you by the guard."

"Where did you get your hands on those?" Sarna squawked. "They have to be signed by at least the garrison commander!"

I waved her to silence and drew out my uniform, motioning the others to do the same. "I'll gladly trade for that. Pleasure working with you."

Just as I turned to go, Gadon called after me, "Oh, and by the way. Interesting that the man who took down Calo Nord comes looking for a way to get back at the sith. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were hiding something."

With turning around, I answered, "I just don't like people who kill or hurt with no reason. That goes for the sith, and arrogant bounty hunters."

With that, I hurried out, not daring to looked behind me. For a blind man, Gadon seemed to see uncomfortably clearly. One we were outside, I examine the papers more closely. It was carte blanche to take a party into the Undercity along with salvage rights to boot. Not a bad find or trade, as I could always kill more sith and snag those uniforms.

"Well, I suppose that went well," Carth commented, extending his hand to take a look at the papers.

I passed them to him and cleared my throat. "Indeed. We might even have an ally in the Fairly Obvious Beks."

"The who?" Breni asked, glancing at the building behind us.

Sarna snorted and bit back a laugh. "Nice."  
"I don't get it!" Breni insisted as we continued to walk.

"Did you notice them? The Beks I mean," Carth asked.

When Breni nodded, he smiled at her patronizingly. "Well, then they didn't do a very good job of hiding did they?"

For a moment, Breni blinked slightly, then blushed. "Oh. I see."

"Onward to the Undercity then!" I cried, linking arms with Breni and Sarna both. Breni didn't even resist this time, progress! "Mind the gap, and watch out for slobbering mutants. It will be just like that one time I was running guns on Corecant and ran into some Senators..."

Ugh. Actually, it was going to be far too much like dealing with Senators. One wrong step, and I'd get bitten and turn into a horrifying monster. Though I still would probably rather be a rakghoul than a politician.


	4. Chapter 4

The Undercity proved to be living up to its name in everyway. Mostly because of the depressingly long elevator ride. I swear, I had never been on a lift that took so bloody long to get anywhere.

"So, Sarna, what's it like, being a sith I mean?" Breni asked, breaking the silence.

Sarna shrugged. "Dunno. What's it like being a jedi pawn?"

"What do you mean by that?" Breni demanded, putting a hand on her vibroblade.

Rolling her eyes, Sarna explained, "What I mean is, can you sum up what it's like to be a jedi in a few simple words? I suppose I could tell you that its boring with lots of paperwork, but that doesn't really answer your question does it."

"Er, no," Breni admitted. "Not really. I suppose that if I told you being a jedi involved lots of sitting cross legged for hours that wouldn't really sum things up either."

"Exactly," Sarna said, beaming Breni in a surprisingly friendly manner. "There's a lot more to things than just the stereotypes people attach to them."

And on that semi-philosophical note, the elevator door opened. I had instructed everyone to come out on guard for trouble, so Carth and Breni jumped out, weapons at the ready, while I hid behind Sarna with my blasters. If there was trouble or rakghouls waiting for us, we would be ready.

"Ack! Don't hurt us!" And instead of rakghouls, we discovered two filthy men cowering in fear. What a wasted entrance.

"Ah, sorry about that," Carth muttered, lowering his blasters slightly. "We were just worried about rakghouls."

"We're not rakghouls, honest!" One of the grubby beggers whined. "We just stand here and collect the toll!"

"Toll?" Breni asked.

The other ragman slapped the other upside the head. "Nothing! Didn't say nothing. Welcome to the village!"

"Go on you two, clear out of here!" A new voice called, and the two men stumbled away into a garbage heap. I turned to face the new voice, a slightly less filthy young woman. "Sorry about that, they try to beg from anyone who come off the elevator. I'm Shaleena."

"A pleasure," I answered with a smile, extending my hand.

In case your mother never told you, good manners cost you little and can gain you everything. Even if you don't think anyone can give you anything or be of any use to you, being polite is always a good idea. They might just turn out to know something useful or come in handy later. If you stomp around like Malak and his cronies kicking puppies and threatening everyone, you do get results. However, you also inspire fear and resentment. It is far better to be loved than simply feared, though I personally find it best to be both loved and feared. If you can't make someone love you fear is fine, but don't go for that right off the bat

"Uh, nice to meet you," Shaleena said, blushing slightly as she took my hand. She wasn't half bad looking, with a delicate jaw line and deep dark eyes with long eyelashes. If she hadn't been so malnourished or filthy, she would have been rather attractive.

A tragic waste, as is so much of the galaxy. As I have found in my travels, the Republic, and by extension the jedi, are rotten to the core. Their much vaunted freedoms and altruism are nothing more then convenient disguises for the truth: They want the rich and powerful to stay on top and everyone else to stay downtrodden. One thing that will change in my empire, everyone will have a chance to rise to their full potential. Under my rule, naturally.

"Tell me, have you seen a young twilek with a wookie come through here recently?" I asked.

"Oh, you mean Mission and Zaalbar?" Shaleena asked. "They came through here not too long ago, they come through here pretty often."

I nodded my thanks and flipped Shaleena a five credit chit. She could obviously use it. "Thank you. I'm also looking for any Republic survivors or salvage from those pods. If you come across anything, let me or one of my friends here know."

Catching the chit, Shaleena's eyes widdened slightly. "Oh wow, thanks! I will let you know if I hear anything. Mission and Zaalbar headed off that way about twenty minutes ago. If you hurry, you might catch them."

I saluted and lead our party off through the slums. It was bad down here, and crowded. Hundreds living in squalor and filth, sickness, starvation, and a thousand other problems. I frowned slightly. I'm not on a crusade to make the galaxy a better place for anyone but me, but places like this always upset me. These people could be useful, contribute to the economy, serve in the army, have useful skills. From what I knew though, they had been banished here for no better reason than that their ancestors had committed a crime or been politically incorrect. It was stupid really. If you made them into slaves and cared for them properly, at least then you would get some use out of them. But no, they were sent down here to starve and die. Stupid really.

"You there, stranger, you have a strange glow about you. Yours is a terrible destiny."  
I spun to find the source of the voice, finding an old man crouching in the shadows of a hut. I frowned. He was apparently force sensitive, and might even have the gift of foresight.

"Carth, Breni, take a look around. See if you can find any information about possible Republic survivors hidden here," I ordered.

For a moment, Carth looked like he might refuse and Breni looked like she wanted to stay, but then Sarna spoke up. "Well, be off you to, Ferc gave you an order." Blessed military discipline.

With an officer speaking, even a sith one, Carth saluted and led Breni off. I squatted down in the hut while Sarna stood guard. "Just what do you mean by that old man?" I demanded softly.

He coughed and gave me a gap-toothed grin. "You have a glow about you, I see it around people sometimes, those who have a great destiny. Sometimes it is a good one, and sometimes bad. But I see it around you."

"Do you know what it means?" I demanded. As any force user knows, the future is a fickle thing. It is possible to foresee something, and then take actions that actually prevent what you have foreseen from ever coming to pass. That doesn't mean the ability is useless, only that like any advise it must be taken with a grain of salt.

"I know not. Perhaps you are the one to lead us to the Promised Land?" The old man asked his eyes gleaming slightly.

I frowned, did he know of my plans? Of the Star Forge? "What do you mean, Promised Land?"

"It is a legend of my people, a place where we may go to be free. I sent my apprentice to seek it many days ago, but he has not returned. I fear for his life, but perhaps you may succeed where he has failed."

Ah. A savior myth. You would be surprised at just how often jedi get hailed as foretold heroes and saviors by various cultures around the galaxy. It's not that they see jedi in particular, just that jedi tend to meet the worst of the stereotypes about heroes. I mean think about it, when was the last time you saw an ugly jedi? With the force, most of them tend to be fairly charismatic as well, not to mention even the weakest of jedi knights is a fairly formidable warrior with a deadly weapon. Wrap all that together and you get the generic savior.

"I see," I said, standing and dusting myself off. "If I see anything like that, I'll let you know."

"Very well," The old man sighed. "Dark Lord."

I froze, then glared back down at him. "What do you mean by that?"

He shrugged. "I see that in the past, you wielded a dark and terrible power. You served only yourself, and you would have brought ruin to the galaxy if you had not been swayed from your path. Now you must choose, to be what you once were, or something else entirely."

"So that's how it is then, old man," I rubbed my jaw and shrugged. "I'll tell you what, if I come across anything, I'll pass it your way. But no promises. As you said, I'm the Dark Lord, not the Light Namby-Pamby."

"I do not know which is worse," the old man murmured. "The darkness that binds, or the light that blinds."

Once again I found myself staring at the old man. He was right you know, when I thought about it. The dark side led to idiocy like what Malak had pulled, but the light side led to a bunch of weak, blind fools like the council who really needed to get laid. I brushed it aside. Time enough to worry about when I was off this wretched world.

As we walked away, Sarna leaned in close and whispered, "What did he mean my lord, about the light and the darkness?"

"That it's possible to end up overly devoted to one side of the force," I answered. "Quite wise actually. Perhaps I'll have to become to first Grey Lord of the Force. I rather like the sound of that actually. Grey Lord Revan. Probably not as much fun as being Dark Lord Revan though."

Sarna didn't quite know what to make of that it seemed, but she masked her confusion quickly enough and said, "As you say, my lord."

"Enough of that, we don't want Ms. Ceekret Jehdi to realize I'm not an amnesiac," I ordered, and Sarna nodded.

"Of course Ferc."

With that on my mind, I led Sarna over to where Carth and Berni had been talking to a group of villiagers. They saw us coming and broke off, Carth nodded to me. "Bastilla was down here. They said she was taken by one of the swoop gangs, probably the Black Vulcars like Gadon said."

"Mission and the wookie came through not long ago as well, they went toward the southwest about half an hour ago," Breni added.

"Excellent, let's see about catching up to them," I declared.

We headed for the gate, when the sound of screaming caught my ear. I broke into a run, and found the gate guards restraining a woman.

"HEDAR!" She was screaming.

"No! No Hester, we can't open the gate, the rakghouls would kill us all!" The guard was telling the hysterical woman.

"But he'll die!" Hester wept.

I looked out the gate, and beheld the rakghouls. They were filthy monstrosities, mutants of the most horrific kind, slober dripped from their gapping maws as they shambled all to swiftly forward on four misshappen limbs. Pressed up against the gate was a hysterical man, in moments the rakghouls would be upon him and tear him limb from limb.

There was no reason for me to save him really. No profit to be gained, no followers that would aid me in reclaiming my throne. But I have a secret for you, one you cannot share with anyone. I didn't join the Mandalorian Wars for the profit. I didn't do it for the challenge. I didn't even do it for the fame and glory. I did it to save people. One thing you should know about me, I wasn't always a jedi. Once, I was a boy on a world who's name I had forgotten. A little boy who's sister had been taken by slavers, and who was willing to do anything to get her back. I stole, I begged, I even tried to kill to get her back. And I couldn't. But the jedi could, and when they came and asked me to come with them, I agreed, on the premise that they save my sister. They did. And that's when I decided to be a jedi.

When I looked at Hester, crying for the life of her husband, I was reminded just why I had set out to be a jedi. Of the same reason I had abandoned that life. For I too had loved, another padawan of the jedi order. Our romance was brief and passionate, and doomed. The masters caught us, and I was sent to Dantooine while she remained on Coruscant. She was long gone, the last I had seen of Meetra she was as broken a woman as any I had ever laid eyes on.

But I had sworn on the day we were parted that any organization that forbid love, passion, life itself, was not one I would remain a part of. Yet now I was torn. The sith had let me satisfy my passions to the extreme, but that had been my doom as well. There had to be another way.

"Lord of the Grey," I murmured.

Breni's eyes widened and she started to turn toward me, but my hand was already in my haversack. I tossed Breni her lightsaber, and then pointed at the guard nearest the gate. He stumbled against the activation button, and I charged forward, blasters in hand.

"Watch my back!" I roared to Breni, and I dived in front of Hedar, firing as I went. One rakghoul went down to my fire, another too shots from behind, probably Carth's or Sarna's. Breni was at my side, her lightsaber a blur as she decapitated another beast. I felt the warm breath of the last one as it rushed me, it's jaw inches from me. I hit it with a massive wave of the force, and sent it flying, tracking it as it fell and sending half a dozen blaster bolts home in its flesh.

And once they were dead, I grabbed Breni and kissed her full on the mouth, pulling her close to me. At first she stiffened and resisted, but then she relaxed and leaned in close, holding me tight as well as we played tongue huttball. Then I let her go and smiled broadly at her. "Something to remind you that the jedi don't know everything," I stated jovially.

She just stared at me wide eyed, her mouth silently moving. One word. Revan. I smiled and nodded at her, slapping her on the back and turning to the man we had just saved. He was holding his wife and rocking her gently as she wept into his tunic. The gate guards were gaping at me, total awe on their faces. Carth was regarding me with newfound interest, and Sarna was standing overwatch. She winked at me when she saw me looking at her, then went back to covering the gate with her rifle. I loved that woman.

"Thank you," Hedar said, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you stranger."

"Carth, see to them, tend any wounds they have," I ordered. "Secure the area and stay here in case any other Republic survivors make their way here. Shoot any rakghouls you see and do what you can for these people. I'm going hunting. Sarna, Breni, let's move."

I turned and strode away into the dim undercity, Breni clinging to my side.

Lord of the Grey. I would find the middle path.

Preferably between two woman. What? Oh come off it, I said Lord of the Grey, not Lord of the Goody-Two-Shoes.

_Author Note:_

_The most important thing I added to this fic is that loading screens now come with Mass Effect style elevator conversations. No really, from now on I think I'll have those for every elevator ride. _


	5. Chapter 5

Once we were out of hearing range of the settlement, Breni looked up at me as we made our way through the Undercity. "You remember, don't you?" It was only half a question.

Nodded absently. "I do."

She gripped me tighter and let out a sob. "Then why haven't you killed me yet?"

I cupped her face in my hands and lifted it up towards my own. "I wouldn't dream of killing you Breni. In fact, I never really wanted to kill any of the jedi."

"But-" She began, then swallowed. "But you've killed so many. Some of them were my friends. My Master included."

I sighed. "Breni, do you think any of the masters would have welcomed me back after Malachor V?"

She shook her head, though she didn't make any attempt to escape my grip. "No, probably not."

"And what would have happened to my followers? Do you think they would have gotten off any easier than Meetra?" I asked softly.

Breni's eyes dropped, then she nodded again. "No. If Meetra hadn't already been deaf to the force, the Masters would have punished her severely."

"And do you think I could have allowed that? For any of my followers? For myself?" I demanded, a bit of iron creeping into my voice.

"But the masters-" Breni protested, and I cut her off with a kiss. The full nine yards. Tongue, spit, sucking, all that good stuff.

When we finished, Breni was breathing hard, and I looked deep into her eyes, nudging her emotions lightly. "And would they ahve ever allowed that?" Before she could answer, I continued, "before you answer, think, is what you are feeling wrong? Are love and lust really so vile? Should someone be punished because they wish to be with another?"

Slowly, Breni lowered the lightsaber she had kept pointed at my belly. If she had lit it off, I would have surely died. But I was confident I would be able to sway her without needing to resort to killing her. "No, Revan. It isn't so vile. And people shouldn't be punished for love."

I grunted and turned back to the bleak expanse around us. "Careful with the name, love. For now, I'm Ferc Kyja. Scoundrel and Rogue extraordinaire. We'll have to see about your proper training later, when we have somewhere safer and private to talk. And a soft bed."

Breni flushed, and glanced at Sarna who grinned at her. "Oh don't mind me. I know all about milord's habits. They're legendary among the sith."

"What sort of habits?" Breni asked, looking back at me.

"Quiet!" I snarled, drawing a blaster. "Someone or something's coming."

After a moment, I relaxed, though I didn't put away the blaster.

"You've got to help me!" A panic stricken voice babbled as a blue twilek teenager scrambled into view. "Nobody else is gonna help me! But they've taken him!"

I put up my hands in a calming gesture. "Slow down Mission. Who's taken him? I assume by the fact that your bodyguard is absent, you're referring to Zaalbar, or whatever his name was?"

She nodded frantically. "Yes! It was the Gamorians. We ran into them, and Big Z yelled for me to run. I thought he was right behind me, I didn't think any stinky pigs could take him, but when I looked back they'd hit him with stunners and were dragging him into the sewers!"

"Indeed? And I take it you desire our aid in a rescue operation?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded. "Would you? Please? I'll do anything, anything at all for you!"

I leered at her, and Mission puffed out her chest, emphasising her surprisingly ample busom. "Anything?" I rasped, pitching my voice to the timber Malak favored.

"Yeah, and don't think it's nothin' I ain't already done," she stated, thrusting her hips forward lewdly.

"Well, I hadn't thought a girl your age would ever have..." I drawled, and Mission started to look offended as she opened her mouth, "...broke into the Black Vulcar's hideout to steal a prototype swoop bike accelerator."

Mission's mouth clacked shut, and the look on her face was priceless. "You... What?"

"Please, if I wanted to get laid, I'd have to be pretty damn desperate to go sneaking around some sewers and rescue a walking carpet from a bunch of slavers. Besides, I have two lovely ladies of legal age with me already." I chuckled.

"Hey!" Mission protested, going a dark shade of purple. "I ain't no kid, or a virgin!"

I shrugged. "That's beside the point. If we rescue your friend, will you aid us?"

"Well, yeah. That's better than having to screw someone as ugly as you anyway," Mission snorted, though she still looked hilariously embarrassed by her earlier display.

"Excelent! Onward and downward then," I declared. "Lead on my experienced and worldly friend."

Mission stuck her tongue out at me. I barely suppressed informing her that if she was determined that I not view her as a child, behaving so childishly was hardly the way to do it.

We didn't get far before the most unearthly wail echoed through the darkness, I drew my blaster, sensing a large group of rapidly approaching individuals.

"Rakghouls!" Mission screamed. It was a very girly scream, I might add. One might almost say, a little girls scream. But I certainly wasn't going to point that out for her.

"You scream like a little girl," Sarna growled, shoving Mission behind her.

Well. I didn't say it.

I motioned for Breni to clear our firing line, and took careful aim into the darkness, letting my senses reach out to the slobbering beings crashing towards us. I fired both blasters, taking one down before I could even see it with my eyes. Sarna was watching where I was shooting, and let loose with a stream of blaster bolts. They were not terribly accurate, but they did spook the oncoming mutants into slowly slightly. That bought us time, as the first rakghoul stumbled out of the darkness. I took it down with a well placed shot to the brain as its fellows leaped into our vision. They hesitated, eyeing their fallen comrade. That was just enough. Sarna's fire sythed through them, and they were too bunched up for her to miss. I picked off the ones she merely wounded, and the entire pack of eight creatures was soon bleeding onto the dusty floor.

"Wow," Mission muttered, her eyes going wide. "You guys are badass."

I held my blaster's tip up to my mouth and blew noisily over it, then spun it three times and jammed it back into it's holster. Mission giggled, but then she turned serious. "You got to be careful though, that was a pretty small pack. I can usually sneak by them, but you three make more noise than Big Z on a bender. We'll have to be careful."

I nodded, pointing off in another direction. "Indeed. We seem to have attracted more attention with our little display."

"How do you-" Mission began, but then we heard muffled shouts.

"Boss, this way, I saw blaster fire this way!"

"Damn, you got good ears," Mission muttered.

Actually, she was right. I had heard the group coming towards us before I sensed them, what with all the background energy in the Undercity. Far too many jedi have been taken unawares because the only sense they pay any attention to is the Force. Your eyes and ears still work as a jedi, better than most peoples in fact. Pay attention to them. It can save your life.

Before long, tramping boots could be heard and the outlines of a large group of armed men just outside what I could clearly make out. "Who are you?" A rough voice demanded.

"Hey Canderous, it's me, Mission," our young companion said, stepping slightly forward. "These are friends of mine, they've agreed to help me rescue Big Z from the Gamorians. He was taken a few hours ago."

"Mission, what have I told you about-" the rough voice began, but than it stopped and a broad shouldered man wielding a massive blaster stepped forward. I could clearly see his tribal markings on his left arm, making him a Mandalorian warrior of some experience. Weren't many left of them in the galaxy. "You." He growled, staring right at me.

"Me?" I asked innocently, pointing two splayed hands at my chest and blinking innocently. He couldn't recognize me as Revan, I had always worn that mask. Masks are terribly comfortable you know, I think everyone will be wearing them in the future. No, this had to be something else

"You're the one that killed Calo Nord," He rumbled.

I gave him my best innocent smile. "Oh, yes, that was me. Friend of yours?"

The big warrior threw back his head and laughed. "No, I hated his guts! Sneaky, conniving bastard, no honor at all!" After a moment, he straightened and studied me again. "But he was tough, and dangerous. And you took him out like it was nothing. If you survive my little blue friends...adventure... I'll have a proposition for you. For now I have to get these weaklings," He gestured to the nervous men who had stepped forward around him, "back to base. I've lost enough of them already. Good hunting."

And with that, the big mandalorian led his troupe back into the darkness. I turned to Mission. "You know him?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, Canderous is a nice guy. He's rough and acts mean, but he's got a good heart. He's given me and Big Z quite a few jobs. He especially likes Big Z, they've sparred a few times. Both of them have some weird warrior tradition, it's crazy cause they can't even talk to one another and they won't let me translate. But Canderous goes on about how 'warriors only need weapons to talk' and Big Z won't shut up about 'the honor of bloodless combat.' Whatever that means."

I nodded. It made sense, if you had studied wookie and mandalorian culture as much as I had. Both had a heavy emphasis on personal honor and a warrior code that turned single combat into a near sacred rite. Actually, in the mandalorians case, it was a sacred right. Both respected strength and emphasized honor in combat, though they both had different ideas of what that constituted. It might be an unusual friendship to an outsider and if the two of them ever found themselves in a real fight they wouldn't hesitate to kill, but I could see how a friendship could develop.

"Well then, let's not wait around. I'm sure your friend is eager to be freed."

It didn't take us much longer to reach the sewers, where we had to ride down in a rickety old elevator that had clearly seen better centuries.

"So, Sarna, what did you mean by 'certain appetites," Breni asked as soon as the doors clacked shut.

Sarna grinned lecherously at her. "Oh, you know, the tastes the late lamented Lord Revan had."

"No, I don't know," Breni huffed. "That's why I'm asking."

"Wow, really?" Mission asked, looking Breni up and down. "What kind of a sheltered princess are you?"

"I am not a sheltered princess!" Breni protested.

"If you say so," Mission and Sarna answered together. Mission held up her hand, and Sarna gave her a solid high five. I had to admit myself, that had been pretty smooth on their part.

Breni sputtered for a moment, then asked, "Alright, so I might have been a little out of the loop. What sort of tastes did er, Revan, have?"

"Oh you know, orgies," Mission stated.

Sarna nodded. "Oh my yes. Set the record for most women pleased in an hour. Twice, in fact."

"And the pictures on the 'net!" Mission added, grinning maliciously. "Let's just say that Dark Lord was well equipped."

"Everyone knows the Republic's got better gear, the sith just have more of it," Breni sniffed.

The other two women nearly collapsed with laughter. I had to hold back the giggles myself.

"What?" Breni demanded, her face rapidly reddening. "What did I say?"

"We're here," I drawled as the door shuddered open. "Try to focus up please."

We stepped out in a dank, smelly, dark mess. I could already tell that this was going to be my favoritest place on Taris.


	6. Chapter 6

In my travels, I've been in a disturbing number of sewers. I don't know why, but every major planet and a few of the minor ones feels the need to build this labyrinthine system underground. I'm not quite sure why really, though I confess that knowledge of plumbing and such (aside from the anatomical sort) isn't one of my strong points. Really all they do is provide a good place for every sort of scum you can imagine to congregate. Maybe it's all part of some vast conspiracy on the part of the hutts. I imagine that they and their minions feel much more at home in the slime and stench.

For whatever reason, Taris was gifted with an extra large helping of sewer, which was where my little party found ourselves. Really, why can't the scum of the galaxy hide out in nice hotels and tea rooms? It would be infinitely more appealing, and I wouldn't have to worry about catching some sort of nasty disease just by breathing. Which I was avoiding as best I could.

"This way, come on!" Mission called, leading us deeper into the murk. I reluctantly followed, keeping myself in the middle of the pack. It wouldn't do to fall behind, as one never knows just what sort of nascent horrors are lurking in normal planets sewers. Ones where you don't already have slavering mutant abominations as a tourist attraction.

It didn't take us long to find a room with a bunch of slavering horrors carrying about in it. Sorry, let me clarify; we found the gamorians. Honestly they aren't that much different than the rakghouls. They were armed with the traditional weapons of their people in the form of nasty scrap metal axes and swords. They look ridiculous and don't have near the cutting power of a vibroblade, but you don't need that when you're already strong enough to break permacrete with your bare hands. Or pig hands, as the case may be.

"Mission, cloak and sneak around behind them. When Sarna and I open fire, you flank them," I ordered quietly.

"You got it." The twilek youth vanished, and I waited about 15 seconds, taking the time to inhale the fragrant bouquet around me. I nearly gagged and ruined the whole thing. Bloody sewers.

Breni shoved the door open and Sarna and I opened fire. There were about a dozen of the gamorians, but we weren't using automatic fire for fear of hitting Mission. Gamorians were hard to kill, but they are also notoriously dim witted. It took them a vital moment to pinpoint where our fire was coming from, and by then two of them were dead. The rest squealed with anger and rushed us, but it wasn't all that hard to back up and fire, especially not with Mission de-cloaking and executing one from point blank range. The two that did get close Breni held off easily enough, dispatching one while Mission shot the other in the back.

"Not bad," I mused, nodding in approval. "Let's hurry up and find your friend. I'd rather be somewhere else than a gamorian lair."

There were a couple more gamorians wandering about, but it looked like we'd taken out the largest grouping so they were easy enough to pick off by ones and twos. Along the way we stumbled across several corpses, usually ancient and decrepit ones. I felt my heart swell with pride as Breni quickly and efficiently searched each and every last one of them. Usually it took longer than this to train those pesky jedi morals out of someone. Or at least one really good night.

Anyway, Breni turned up several data pads with coordinates to the "promised land" the old man had spoken of. I nearly tossed them away, but then I paused. True, in the short term, helping those fools out would do me little to no good. In the long run, it was likely it wouldn't be of any help to me at all. However, there was also no need to be callous. Giving these poor souls a chance at a better life was the sort of thing a proper galactic ruler might do. If I was going to prove myself superior to the jedi and Malak's cronies, I needed to start somewhere. I pocketed the data pads.

We found Zaalbar stashed away in a locked cargo container with several gamorians harassing him. Mission took both of them out with a laudable level of viciousness. I'm not exactly a xenophobe, but there are certain species I tend to believe the galaxy could do better without. Gamorians usually top that list. What is there of beauty in a gamorian? What good has their race ever done the galaxy? I don't believe in casting off things that might prove useful, but when I ruled the galaxy, the gamorians wouldn't be long for it. They were nothing but dumb brutes that delighted in the worst sort of petty crimes. Extinction would do them and the rest of the universe a favor.

"Stupid lock, it's an old analogue, I can't slice it!" Mission snarled, shaking the lock and chain in rage.

Zaalbar let out a mournful sound, coming over to the door and rattling the bars. "Mission, you have to get out of here, more of them will come! I told you to run, what are you doing here?"

"Relax, she's with me," I said, coming up and taking the lock out of Missions hands. "Kids these days. Have no respect for the traditional way of things. Anyone have a hairpin?"

Breni handed me one of hers, and I held the small bit of metal up so Mission could see it. "Not every lock can be opened with the right program kid. Quick fingers and quick thinking will get you farther than all the tech in the universe. Your mind is always your first and best weapon."

"I ain't no kid, I already told you," Mission grumped, turning away to pout.

I sighed in frustration. "If you want to prove your maturity, watch what I do. You never know when a new skill is going to come in handy."

She kept the pouty face, but turned back and watched while played with the lock. It was crude, like everything else the gamorians did, and I had it open after only a bit of prying. "See?" I detached the lock and handed it and the hair pin to Mission. "When you can get that one open easy enough, I'll make you a harder one. It's good practice." I turned back to the door, taking a careful step back. "Alright you big walking carpet, doors open, let yourself out of there."

Now this might seem a bit callous of me, but there is a very good reason I made the wookiee let himself out. You see, wookiees have the aboriginal tradition of the life-debt. If I'd made it too obvious that I was directly responsible for saving him, especially when I was neither kith nor kin, he'd feel obligated to follow me around to the end of my days serving me. That sort of devotion is useful in a servant, but the last thing I needed was a big hairy walking carpet following me around for the rest of my days. Wookiees live a very long time indeed, even longer than force using humans.

The door banged open and Zaalbar stepped out, looking me up and down. "You have saved my life and the life of my friend I-"

"I made a deal, son of Kashyyyk," I interrupted, sensing where this was going. "I helped your ward in exchange for a service. Once she performs it, no further debt is owed."

The big humanoid paused, tilting his head to one side. "You speak my language?"

"Well no, but I can understand you well enough. I spent some time on your homeworld a while back. It seemed a useful skill to acquire at the time."

I suddenly found myself pressed up against the crate with hot, rancid breath on my face. "And are you slaver scum, here to help me exchange one set of manacles for another? How many of my people have you put in captivity!"

"Big Z, no!" Mission cried.

"I am no slaver!" I snarled, looking Zaalbar right in his eyes. They were filled with sadness and rage, and I knew that if I did not choose my words with care, I was a dead man. "I was there on unrelated business. I sought ancient knowledge. I met your people in peace, and departed as such. I received the permission of chieftain Faarnak of the Yllwookrorro visit the Shadowlands. I had no dealings with Czerka or their puppet Chuundar of Rwoorkrrorro!"

For a moment, I thought I was dead. The anger and pain in the wookiee's eyes seemed to increase ten-fold, but then Zaalbar set me down and backed off, his eyes downcast. "Then I have no quarrel with you. Forgive me, the time in chains has warped my mind."

"No insult was given, none was taken," I answered, breathing hard and motioning for Sarna and Breni to lower their weapons. "It is well to meet you for the first time, wookiee."

He glanced up at words in shock. I was greeting him as a stranger who I had only just laid eyes on, signifying that any past actions between us were canceled. He huffed in grim amusement. "It is strange to find one with such honor in this land, or one who knows such ancient words of friendship. My ward and I are indebted to you even so. We shall aid you in whatever endeavors you may have upon this world. After, we shall talk further."

"I will await that day with anticipation," I answered. I meant it too. There was something odd about this wookiee. For one thing, it was strange enough to even find one off their homeworld. For another, if you do, they're usually slaves or bounty hunters, not hiding out in the slums with an orphaned girl. Then there was the obsession with slavers. Bounty hunters didn't care, and this wookiee didn't strike me as a former slave, too much fight.

"Right then, take us to that hidden entrance, Mission. Let's not keep the vulkars waiting," I declared, attempting to put everyone's mind back on the mission at hand. Mission at hand. Urgh. I was going to have to avoid saying something like that aloud. Puns make everything worse.

She nodded, then blushed. "Of course. Um, there is one small thing I forgot to mention."

I groaned. "Surely you didn't leave your set of pass codes in your other jacket or it's in the possession of some sort of dastardly criminal."

"Oh no, nothing like that," Mission assured me. "It's just the guard dog the vulkars have."

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What sort of guard dog?"

"Oh, you know. A rancor."

"A what?" Breni asked, going rather pale suddenly. "Did you say a rancor?"

Mission nodded, doing her best to appear innocent. "I'm sure a bunch of badasses like you can think of a way to take it down."

A rancor. That was bad. I could certainly take one on with little personal danger if I was willing to reveal my powers, but that was decidedly ill advised at this point. Malak was sure to be in orbit, and if I started shooting lightning out of my hands or augmenting my physical capacities in any major way he'd certainly not hesitate to level the planet to kill me. Of course, there was always more than one way to skin a gizka.

"Sarna, do you happen to have any grenades on you?" I asked.

She nodded, patting her belt. "Yep, two frags and a plasma left."

I nodded in satisfaction. "That should be enough then. Zaalbar, would you mind bringing a gamorian corpse with you? I have a clever plan."

It didn't take long to navigate through the sewers to the gate, which Mission deactivated easily enough. Sure enough, just a few meters more down the corridor I smelled the rotting stench of a rancor's lair. It was a familiar enough smell, the rakatan certainly had enough of them running around their base.

"Right, Mission, want to know how to set a grenade to remote detonate?" I asked, grinning at the young twilek.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Damn right I do!"

"Well then, Zaalbar, if you would be so kind as to disembowel the gamorian you're carrying, we can get started."

As it turned out, Mission wasn't terribly interested in learning how to remote detonate a grenade stuffed into the guts of a gamorian after all. Shame that. It only took me a few minutes to get our cadavarific friend set up, though I was going to need a long, hot shower and about a liter of soap and cleansers once this little escapade was through.

Zaalbar chucked the corpse into the rancor's den, and we all slunk back into the shadows and waited. In a few minutes, the rancor ambled over, sniffing the air as massive globules of drool dripped from its maw. It spied the gamorian corpse and roared with pleasure, reaching down with claws big enough to rip the platting from an armored landspeeder to pick up the corpse. In a moment, the entire gamorian was down the rancors gullet, and it sniffed the air looking for more.

"Now Sarna!" I ordered, and covered my head. There was a load KRUMPF and gore splattered just a few centimeters from where we were hiding. Getting through rancor hide was hard. You needed a high power blaster and good aim, or a lightsaber to do that. Getting out though? All that took was a plasma grenade and bait.

I smiled and stood, jerking my head towards the entrance to the Black Vulkar base. "Well, let's go get us a prototype swoop accelerator, shall we?"


	7. Chapter 7

"Ugh, Big Z, you are filthy! Look at you! Covered in slime and I don't even know what. And your breath! Did you eat a gamorian or something?" Mission demanded as soon as we stepped on the lift up to the Black Vulkar base.

The wookiee shrugged and continued to stare at the door. "I was hungry, and one of them got too close. I ripped his arm off and ate it. They left me mostly alone after that, which had been my goal."

"Seriously, we're going to have to get you a shower and a toothbrush. You smell like a wet bantha."

"Wookies do not brush their teeth. Nor do we shower. It is not fitting for a warrior to do so."

"What's he saying?" Saran asked, looking at Mission.

"Ugh, he says he's not gonna do it. It's too bad, I've got this wicked cool sonic toothbrush that has this sparkly pink handle," Mission explained, drawing out the toothbrush in question. I had to stifle a guffaw. It was very pink, with little lights in the handle and the image of a sickeningly cute pick twilek girl on the stem.

"Mission, that's not very considerate of Zaalbar's culture," Breni scolded. "You should get him a brush that's just a bit more manly. Perhaps some shampoo that doesn't smell of flowers, but of the forests of his homeland."

Zaalbar let out a roar of consternation. "I did not ask any of your opinions! It is bad enough my ward seeks to turn me into a pampered weakling! I will not stand for further silliness from aliens that have no appreciation for my people's ways."

"What he say to that one?" Sarna asked.

"He said he's totally into the more manly brush, and that his favorite scent is Toydarian Blue," Mission answered with a completely straight face.

"Child, if you are going to translate for me, do so properly. I cannot begin to count all the fights we could have avoided if you had simply put forth my words with proper gravity and inflection," Zaalbar growled.

"What was that about?" Breni asked.

"He says that he would also love it if you got him a nice bowtie and a leather vest. His old ones got stolen by the gamorians."

"He would look good in a bowtie," Sarna mused, eying the wookiee thoughtfully. "I think we could trim one of Carth's vests to fit him if we took off the sleeves and enlarged the arm holes. I'm sure we could find a fabricator droid to do it for us."

"Do not dress me as if I were some fop!" Zaalbar roared.

"He really likes that idea," Mission supplied, her lips twitching slightly. "He says his favorite color is dark green. Matches his fur well."

"I shall say no more, you will only twist my words," Zaalbar huffed. "Why I associate with you I cannot recall."

"Because we're best buds!" Mission squealed, hugging the wookiee tightly. "And I totally saved you from those gangsters when you came here. "

"True. Of course I have never gotten you out of any scrapes," Zaalbar mused. His eyes were filled with what I figured to be genuine affection. I had to admit, they made an odd pair. Still, I resolved everyone was getting lessons in basic shyriiwook. Best not to have anyone dismembered because they got Zaalbar personal grooming products. Wookiees have their own set of cleaning tools, and they were usually pretty finicky about anyone trying to give them anything else. I couldn't understand it myself; I was rather fond of Toydarian Blue.

The door opened to reveal a trio of guards at a low table playing pazzak. They looked up from there game with a mixture of surprise and irritation which rapidly turned to shock.

"Hello gentlemen," I said, stepping out with my blaster pointed up in the air. "Care to deal me in?"

They appeared to be disinclined to acquiesce to my request, and all reached for nearby weapons. Same that, I was itching for a good game. We blew them away with satisfying rapidity, and Mission hurried over to the nearest door.

"It's sound proof, I doubt anyone on the other side heard the commotion, and I hacked the cameras from the elevator controls. No one saw us come in, and as far as they knew the idiots three here are still playing that last hand."

"Excellent, than this shall be easy. Which way to the garage?" I asked.

"I don't know, there's no map and I've never been in here before," Mission admitted.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to go exploring," Sarna growled, hefting her blaster. "Who wants to find out what's behind door number one?"

As it turned out, there was nothing but an empty hallway behind door number one. Still, it was pretty impressive how Sarna stormed through with Zaalbar and Breni at her flanks. Zaalbar was armed with a massive vibrosword we'd found among the guards' weapons, and I halfway pitied the fool who got in his way.

We continued barging through random doors for quite some time. Occasionally some poor sap would be waiting on the other side and get hacked to pieces by a rapidly slipping jedi and a wookiee, or shot full of holes by Sarna. It was actually sort of relaxing, because I was simply watching our rear with Mission. Seeing as we were not leaving anyone alive, it wasn't that hard to do. Granted, most of the Vulkars were not giving us a chance to leave them alive; moronically attacking the second we came through the door. Honestly, I felt we were doing the gene pool a favor. Anyone who voluntarily attacks an angry wookiee and two well-armed and armored pissed off human females is frankly too dumb to live.

I was just beginning to relax and enjoy the show, Breni and Sarna were both rather beautiful speckled with blood and sweat, when we finally ran into someone with what might pass for a forebrain.

"Don't shoot, I surrender!" A twilek called, ducking behind a desk as we mowed down his less bright friends in yet another office space in the base.

I put a hand on Zaalbar and Breni's shoulders to restrain them, Sarna had already looked to me for guidance, and stepped forward. "Oh really? And just what reason do you have for surrendering? Your friends here seemed rather more interested in dying ignobly than you do."

"Because I'm not a moron," my cowardly friend replied, his voice trembling slightly. "An d I'm part of the old school Vulkars. Back when being a Vulkar meant something."

"Pretty sure beling a Vulkar has always meant you were two-bit bantha fodder," Mission snarked, rolling her eyes at the suggestion.

I waved her to silence and nodded to the eyes peeking out from under the desk. "I see. So you don't have any loyalty to the current establishment?"

"Brejik is a fool! He's not interested in honor or protecting the community. He's just after money and glory. All he does is recruit thugs with no sense of tradition, make spice and take slaves," the twilek whined.

"A noble criminal. These fools have strange ideas of honor," Zaalbar huffed. "The Beks are the same. A criminal is a criminal, and should be treated as such."

"My wookiee friend thinks you look absolutely delicious," I observed. "I'm going to have a devil of a time keeping him from tearing an arm or leg off to sate his hunger. You'll need to give me something I can use. Perhaps a map of this warren, or an idea of where I can find a jedi prisoner or a swoop bike accelerator?"

Zaalbar let out a bark of amusement. "You are as bad as the girl. Still, I cannot complain. These aliens do respond well to threats of force, and this one seems more cowardly than most."

"I never realized just how uncouth wookiees are," Breni muttered, taking a half step away from the shaggy humanoid. Mission stifled a giggle by turning it into a snort. I really must teach everyone some shyriiwook. This was becoming absurd.

"Ok, ok I'll talk!" the twilek cried. "The jedi ain't here, I don't know where she is, Brejik and the others don't trust me."

"Do tell," Sarna muttered, shaking her head.

"But I know where the accelerator is! It's down in the garage, here, I'll give you a map." The twilek stood and pulled out a data slate, hastily tapping at the screen to mark the path. "You'll need a key to open the elevator. Nerr over there should have one in his pocket."

I took the slate and glanced it over, then handed the pad to Mission. "See if he's telling the truth kid."

"I ain't no kid!" Mission snarled, but she stomped over and searched through the indicated corpse. Breni had been neglecting her duties, seeing as we were moving too fast to spend much time riffling through bodies.

"This it?" she held up a small red card, and the twilek nodded frantically.

"Yeah, yeah that's the key. See, I'm helpful, no need to feed me to your pet wookiee."

"I am no man's pet and few's companion," Zaalbar growled.

"He doesn't believe you," I supplied. "Tell you want, why don't you escort us to the elevator. If you're telling the truth and the card gets it open, your free to go spend the rest of your miserable existence wherever you like. But if you're not, well, the phrase 'meals on hoverpads' comes to mind."

The smell of urea filled the air, and the twilek became increasingly panicked. "Look, I told you the truth, don't let that thing eat me!"

"Would now be a suitable time to roar and beat my chest like a savage?" Zaalbar asked, a note of amusement in his voice.

"You go Big Z!" Mission laughed.

I nodded, and Zaalbar proceeded to let out an absolutely blood curdling roar and beat his chest. If you understood wookiee body language, you could tell he was clearly enjoying the theatrics, playing the part of a dumb brute to the hilt. The stench of emptying bowels filled the air, and the twilek let out a whimper.

I smiled at him. "Lead on, my turncoat friend."

As it turned out, the path to the elevators we took was rather different to the one our guide had originally sketched out. Fancy that. He had been honest about the key card though, which worked just fine on the elevator. I nodded in satisfaction then turned to Breni."Kill him. We can't afford to leave a possible traitor behind."

She hesitated for a moment. This was the moment of truth. We could not afford to let this scum go. He'd already betrayed one master, tried to trick us into springing a trap of some sort, and was a loose end and a witness to our activities in the base that if the sith cared to look, would point them right to us. It was also decidedly not what a jedi would do in this situation. They'd natter on about redemption and the like. Well and good when you could afford the risks, but a liability in situations like this.

"Is there no other way?" she asked, looking the wreck of a sentient up and down. He was sobbing nosily on the ground, pleading for his wretched life. A piteous creature, but then again a viper could be as well, until it bit you.

"Remember what I told you about death, Breni. I don't kill lightly, but it is necessary at times."

Breni hesitated again, and I sensed she was finally on the precipice. One more nudge, and she would be mine, heart and soul, for all eternity. So I gave her one. It's a subtle thing, influencing the strong minded and trained, which Breni was. For all her openness to my influence, she was a strong woman who was very skilled in the jedi arts. A bit naive perhaps, but that's to be expected in a padawan, or anyone who's spent most of their life in a jedi enclave.

To influence someone like Breni, you have to be careful. A slow, small push in the proper direction with the force, just a feather brushing across their mind to help them favor the right direction. Too little and you do nothing at all, too much and they sense your influence and buck it. It takes quite a bit of practice, and I've had plenty. I nudged Breni, ever so carefully, out of the light, towards killing the man. She was already disgusted with him and knew he was a traitor and criminal. Part of her wanted to kill him. A breathed just a enough on those embers that they overwhelmed her training and morality.

The twileks head hit the ground with a wet thud, and his body toppled over, now headless and lifeless.

"Did you really have to kill him like that?" Mission asked, turning a shade of yellow.

"He was a coward who betrayed his own tribe to save his life. He had no honor. As soon as we had gone, he would have run to his companions and revealed his presence," Zaalbar huffed. "There is but one way to deal with such an honorless dog as that one. Do not mourn him, Breni did a favor by giving him an honorable death."

"What did he say?" Sarna whispered to me.

I cleared my throat. "Zaalbar remarked that someone like that twilek lying there has no honor. Someone with no concept of honor, who has already proven themselves to be wholly self-serving and traitorous, cannot be left behind where he could yet again turn on you. According to wookiee tradition, someone like that is lucky to receive a death at the hands of a skilled warrior, at least in his tribe."

Breni and Sarna both looked at me with shocked expressions. I shrugged. "Look, that's what he said, essentially. I'm not wholly familiar with the dialect he's using, I was taught my shyriiwook by another tribe. Just because someone looks big and dumb and doesn't speak basic does not mean he's not wise and intelligent, nor does it preclude elegance. Frankly, he talks like a wookiee who's been classically trained and educated by the best they have."

Their gazes shifted to first Zaalbar, then Mission. Sarna's eyes narrowed. "How accurate have the twerps translations been?"

"Er, um, you see-" Mission stammered, but I interrupted.

"We need to keep moving. You can discuss this matter on the elevator," I ordered, and everyone trooped inside, save Zaalbar, who nodded to me.

"I thank you; too many believe me to be simply big and dumb because I cannot speak their tongue. True, I am no great intellectual, but my ward's translations are a reflection of her youth and irreverence."

"My pleasure. I'd hate to misrepresent a friend," I replied, then grinned. "That, and I like my arms in their sockets."

Zaalbar chuffed with amusement, then stepped onboard the elevator with me.

The three women were in the back, and I listened in to their heated discussion.

"So Mission, just how many boyfriends have you had?" Breni asked curiously.

"Oh, you know, five or six. Zap, he was sweet, my first in more ways than one, and I-"

"Zap was a scoundrel who was attempting to taste meats he had no right to try. He was lucky I sent him off with only a broken hand," Zaalbar snarled.

"What did he say?" Sarna asked, prodding Mission with a finger. "And say it right this time."

"Well, actually, Zap wasn't really my boyfriend. We sort of flirted, then he tried to kiss me. I was OK with it, but Zaalbar broke his hand and told him if he ever got near me again he'd lose the arm."

Sarna raised her eyebrows. "And the others? You claim to be a woman of the world."

Glancing at the wookiee who was standing with his arms folded across his chest and a reproachful look in his eye, Mission rapidly verbally backpedaled. "Well, I guess what I should say is that I don't feel like no virgin cause I grew up on the streets, and there've been a lot of boys who tried things, but Big Z felt like none of them were good enough for me. I know lots of stuff though, I ain't an ignorant kid."

"But you've never actually done anything," Sarna supplied, putting a hand to her lips to hide a smile.

"I done lots of stuff. Killed my first man when I was nine. Stole bread when I was five. Learned to play pazaak when I was only seven, and I can beat any one you care to name at slicing locks or getting into places."

"Don't feel embarrassed Mission, I've never been with a man either," Breni confided. "It's not a sign of a lack of maturity. If anything, it makes you seem older and wiser."

Missions face lit up like a wookiee village on Life Day. A horrible celebration by the way. Far too hokey for me. "Really? You think so?"

"Of course. There's no need to claim something like that to make yourself seem older. I'm plenty old and experienced, but I am still a virgin myself."

Both Mission's and Sarna's noses wrinkled. "But your naive as a rich ithorian on his first visit to a cantina," Mission complained. "I'm more experienced than you are."

"Kid's got a point, hon," Sarna agreed. "You really need to get laid."

"What about me?" Mission demanded, her face flushing again.

Before anyone could say anything, Zaalbar let out a low, deep growl. The kind of growl that reminds people why big, scary predators still scare them, even when they've got blasters and spaceships. Some fears are too primal to ever really remove.

Sarna shrugged. "You're someone else problem. Talk to him."

"My ward has no need to be involving herself in any mating rituals until she reaches her lawful majority. I have enforced this, and will continue to do so," Zaalbar huffed. "As I have discussed with her, this is not something I am willing to discuss outside of ritual combat with anyone else."

Breni and Sarna looked at Mission, who studied the deck intently. "He's sayin' no."

_Authors note: _

_Just to clarify, Mission is a horny teen. She is not, however, a teen who has ever done anything about said horniness. A wookiee protector with a grudge tends to scare away boyfriends. Also, that would just be gross. No Mission/anyone. I value my limbs too much. _

_On side note, I'm looking for a beta reader for this story. If you'd be interested, PM me or leave a review expressing that interest. You can probably expect at most weekly chapters, though sometimes I might go as long as a month or so without an update. _


	8. Chapter 8

The elevator deposited our little group in a noisy garage, and I must say I was pleasantly surprised when no idiotic gangsters immediately attempted to ventilate us. There were swoop bikes everywhere, with grease stains and tools scattered around the floor. Evidently, the Black Vulkars' mums never told them to tidy up after themselves.

"So," Mission began as we stepped off the lift, "what's the prototype look like?"

Silence fell. If it hadn't been for the background noise of someone operating heavy machinery, I think we might have heard chirping noises.

"Erm, I imagine it's made of metal of some sort," I ventured.

Mission and Zaalbar turned and stared at me. "You mean you didn't even bother to get a description of it?" Mission incredulously demanded.

"Now that you mention it, that particular detail does seem to have slipped my mind, yes."

Breni had flushed a dark red and was examining the grease stain at her feet.

"Eh, I say we find somebody and beat the location and description out of them," Sarna said with a nonchalant shrug.

"That is a foolhardy proposition. These Vulkars are cowards, true, but they are as likely to tell a lie as the truth, as we have already learned at our peril. Perhaps we would be better served looking in a computer system for the description; those are far less likely to lie out of simple habit," Zaalbar chuffed.

Nodding, Mission stood on her tiptoes and peered around the garage. "Good idea, Big Z; I'm sure the Vulkars have a record of the prototype somewhere."

I suppressed a sigh. It had been rather clumsy of me, but this was sadly typical. I'd always had Malak keep track of all the things we were after and handle flying the ships and such, or appointed another underling to take care of it. I was rather horrible with directions. The charming, charismatic leader who looked at the big picture was more my thing. Details were for the little people.

"We'll try both. Come on, let's try and take one of these idiots alive. Shouldn't be all that hard. I mean, we do have a wookie after all."

"Yeah, because all the Vulkars before now have been so willing to talk," Sarna snorted. "Like trying to find a Republic Commando who won't piddle herself when she's captured."

Breni let out a disgusted noise, and Zaalbar and Mission looked at her with a degree of bemusement.

"Aren't you on the Republic's side?" Mission asked.

"Sort of. I'm on Lor- on Ferc's side. Pay and benefits are better," Sarna explained, looking at me with an apologetic expression.

"Come on, we've got a prototype thing to find. Say something if you find something that looks..."

I trailed off, and Breni spoke up, offering, "Prototypish?"

"Precisely," I agree, waving my hand vaguely. And hoping I wasn't going to have to torture anyone. We really didn't have the time for that sort diversion at the moment.

After a moment, we spied a mechanic working on a swoop over in a corner. I had Mission cloak and sneak up on the bugger. It went down perfectly; she stealthed, snuck up behind him, pressed her gun to his back and decloaked. Flawless execution.

What wasn't so flawless was the morons reaction. He started, dropping his plasma torch. Normally that wouldn't be so bad; a plasma torch can be a nasty weapon and he'd just disarmed himself. Unfortunately, he dropped the torch into the puddle at his feet. Which turned out to be bike fuel. Mission leapt back as the fool cried out in pain and stood, knocking over a canister and spilling its contents all over himself. Said canister turned out to be full of engine grease. It was rather like the time I doused the sand people chief in liquid bantha fat and shocked him, in that the man was reduced to a pile of burning ash in about 14 seconds. And set off every damn fire extinguishing system in the place. Not that it did him any good, mind.

Have you ever smelled wet wookie? It's not a pleasant smell. Mix it with the smell of burned meat and the odor of the fire extinguishing chemicals, and you have a bouquet that makes the sewers seem pleasant. Oh, and did I mentioned the ozone? Because every single gangster in the entire building seemed to poor out of every possible crevasse and charge right towards us.

"Well, so much for doing things quietly," I snarled, ducking behind a swoop bike.

"Hmph. Are you a warrior, or a whelp, Ferc Kyja?" Zaalbar demanded, unlimbering his crossbow like weapon and taking a few pot shots at the gangsters.

"I'm someone who likes his blood in his body, his credits in his pocket, and a woman in his lap," I replied, letting my senses roam across the room and half closing my eyes. It was a bit risky to use the Force at this point, but frankly, we were in a bad way, and I was going to be just as dead if I let the Vulkars ventilate me as I was if Malak bombed me into dust. I found my targets and allowed the Force to guide my hand. I popped up and unleashed a stream of deadly accurate blaster fire. Six Vulkars splashed to the ground, smoking holes in the dead center of their foreheads. Or the species equivalent.

"Hmm, for one who talks like a coward, you fight well," Zaalbar noted, putting holes in the center of a Vulkar who was trying to rush our position.

The elevator opened and more Vulkars swarmed out, splashing through the puddles of water to flank us through the racks of swoop bikes. "Damn, the whole base is coming to the party!" I snarled as I shot two more Vulkars dead before having to duck back down.

The enemy blaster fire suddenly stopped, and I peeked my head up to see what was going on. I glanced at Breni and Sarna, who were holed up with Mission across the aisle from Zaalbar and myself. Sarna raised an eyebrow at me and jerked her head at the suddenly quiet gangsters. I shrugged in response, and took a quick look around. They were moving into position, but they were in no hurry. What was their play?

The fire extinguishers final shut off, and after a moment, a green skinned twi'lek with the glow of powerful energy shielding stepped out from behind a swoop bike, slowly clapping his hands.

"Impressive. Most impressive. Normally I'd take an intrusion into my headquarters as an insult, but this, this is a work of art! Masterfully done. Tell me, are you with the Beks? After the prototype? Because really, I would expect someone as talented as the man who planned an assault like this to be smarter than to shackle himself to a losing team like the Beks."

"You shut your damn mouth, Kandon!" Mission shouted, her grip on her gun tightening as she flushed purple with anger.

"Ah, young Miss Vao. A pity. Such talent, such finesse! Why, even now, my techs are still trying to sort out all the problems you've caused with your little games in our systems. I should have known it was you as soon as I saw the damage. But surely, it's not you who lead this mission—pardon the pun—, is it? That old fool Gadon never could identify talent. Why, if you'd asked to join the Vulkars like you did the Beks, I'd have accepted you on the spot. Brejik's been trying to recruit you for ages, did you know?"

My young companion turned an even darker shade of purple, her face contorting with rage. She opened her mouth to retort, but I motioned her for silence. "Well—Kandon, is it?—, I'm afraid there's been a bit of a misunderstanding. My landspeeder got towed, and I was told this was the impound. One thing led to another, and well, you know how it is. First there's the yelling, then the shooting, and then someone gets lit on fire and triggers the fire extinguisher. So if you'll just point me in the direction of my speeder, I'll happily leave you and yours alone."

Throwing back his head, Kandon let out a bark of laughter. "A landspeeder? My, such dedication; it must be a favorite of yours. Tell me, what's your name? Surely I would have heard of the daring man who dared infiltrate the Black Vulkar base."

"The name's Darth Revan," I shouted back.

There was silence for a moment as the Vulkars all tensed, then Kandon laughed again. "Quite the wit you have there. Someone as smart as you must surely be able to see what a situation he's walked himself into. Your plan was a good one, friend, but these little accidents happen. Tell you what, why don't switch sides? I could use a man of your talents. Whatever Gadon's paying you, I'll triple it."

"No thanks, I just need my landspeeder. It's a very rare model. A jedi model. Very fast, very sexy, hard to replace. I simply must have it back."

I saw Kandon's eyes narrow dangerously at the mention of "jedi." He was clearly thinking fast and hard about just what that might mean to him. "You're after the jedi, are you? You must know that Brejik's grown quite fond of that model. He's refurbishing it, whole new body and engine. Then I think he's going to take it for a ride. It's not every day a man gets to ride a jedi. In fact, I'd be half surprised if he isn't riding her now. Over and over again in fact. A bit disgusting really, but what can you do with a man obsessed with power?"

Blast. I should have know this sort of thing was going to happen. I suppose it wasn't all bad, traumatic experiences were likely to make it far easier to turn Bastila, but I really wanted her of sound mind when I did. If she was too damaged, she'd be as much a danger to me as to my far-too-numerous enemies. Still, I thought I saw an opening.

"Tell you want, I think we can cut a deal here, Kandon. What say you give me that accelerator and find a way to get me my jedi. A man like you has vision, class, experience; nothing like that blind idiot Gadon or the greedy fool who goes by the name Brejik. If an arrangement could be made for an...accident, say, to take place at the race, I imagine you could end up as the new leader of the Vulkars. All for the price of one landspeeder, slightly used. But undamaged. I need my baby whole."

"Ferc, you can't seriously be thinking of helping Kandon!" Mission hissed. "We should frag this loser and get out of here. Kandon's an ass; he's almost worse than Brejik is! We need to get that accelerator and get back to Gandon, not cut a deal with the Vulkars!"

I ignored the girl, listening for Kandon's reply.

"An interesting proposal," Kandon mused, "but how would I know that I could trust you? And why should you trust me, for that matter?"

"Listen, I'm just a smuggler trying to get off-world with valuable cargo in his hold. That jedi's my lunch ticket if I can get her back to the Republic. Honestly, I have no interest in your petty gang politics. The name of the man who rules the Tarisian streets is irrelevant to me. It could be Gadon, it could be Brejik. It could be you."

"A very tempting offer, but Brejik is nobody's fool, and not a man to cross. What makes you think you could take him out?"

"Well, he can't be any harder to kill than Calo Nord," I shot back. I glanced at Mission, who was not directing her angry glares at me. I learned over to Zaalbar. "Listen, you've got to get your ward under control. I'll make you a deal, son of Kashyyyk. This is no life for you, nor for Mission. I'll get you off this rock with me. Find a decent place for you to live with enough credits to do it comfortably, or even let you sign on with me and live a life of adventure among the stars. But you can't tell me you want to let her or yourself spend the rest of your lives rotting in a dying world's underbelly."

Zaalbar looked at me, then at Mission. He nodded. "Child, be silent and still. This man has a good plan. Trust me, as you have in the past. We are far better off throwing our lot in with him than with the Beks. He has even offered to take us away from this den of filth. Perhaps we might even find your brother if we go with him."

Mission opened her mouth to say something, but then she frowned at Zaalbar. He chuffed, and she reluctantly nodded and sat back, sticking out her lower lip and pouting, but nonetheless silent.

"What did he say, the wookie?" Kandon demanded.

"He's agreeing with your stupid face, you nerf herding ass," Mission snarled. "Apparently Big Z doesn't like the Beks as much as I thought he did."

"Those people considered me a savage and my ward a foolish child. They may have helped us, but it was not out of kindness. The only reason they tolerated us was to take advantage of our talents," Zaalbar growled.

That shut Mission up, and put shocked look on her face to boot.

"Then your friend is wise. The Beks have only ever used you and your friend while they laughed behind your back, child. Tell you what, Ferc Kyja. I think something can be arranged. I won't give you the prototype. Instead, I'll sponsor you in the race myself. If something unbecoming happens to Brejik, well, that would create a power vacuum. However, that still leaves the matter of Gadon. I think I might desire to employ someone of your skills to take him out of the picture as well."

"I think whacking your boss and not killing you and your men is enough of a favor to you, Kandon," I replied, holstering my blaster and standing. I made a show of dusting myself off, but I kept my senses sharp and my hand on my blaster. Never could tell in these sort of situations. Reminded me of the time I had to talk my way into a temple past a high priest of an alien race thought long extinct, but that's a story for another day.

"Fair enough. I suppose I can handle one old blind man myself if needs be. I might even negotiate a truce. War is bad for business, and there's plenty of territory on Taris, if only Brejik would see it." Kandon motioned for his men to stand down and stuck out a hand. "I think we have ourselves a deal, Mr. Kyja."

Not long after, my little company found ourselves holed up in a cantina with Kandon, sipping from some surprisingly good trandosian ale and talking business. I had radioed Carth, who had shown in record time and was sitting in the booth with me, Kandon, and his associate, a sultry and deadly woman by the name of Baath Haveena.

"So, you're going to get us Bastila?" Carth demanded, his hand tightening on his drink.

Kandon pursed his lips. "Well, that depends. I'm going to get you into a situation where you can retrieve your landspeeder, but I'm hardly going to hand her too you."

"Landspeeder?" Carth asked, his eyes narrowing.

I put a calming hand on his shoulder. "Relax, just a joke. But Carth has a point, Kandon. I need that woman. She's worth quite a bit to me."

"And to the sith," Baath laughed, an airy sound that sent shivers down my spine and blood rushing to my extremities.

I smiled at her and winked, but kept my hand under the table and on my blaster. Baath might look like a holo-star, but she was carrying twin Massasi brands. Those were short, deadly weapons designed to make your foes bleed. They were also touched by the darkside, and I could sense that Baath was a Force-sensitive. Not jedi or sith material, but enough that she would be murder in close quarters. Which these were. "Indeed. But frankly, I'd rather have the jedi running things myself. Their officials took far cheaper bribes, and they were less inclined to planetary lockdowns that are just pure murder on my profit margins."

"Ah, a man of principle," Kandon chuckled, returning my wink. "I could see us working well together, if you were inclined to stay, of course. I'm not so foolish as to try to provoke a man who's blasted his way through two score of my men and killed Calo Nord."

"So you wouldn't be so foolish as to stiff us of the jedi?" Carth growled. While I could admire a man who knew what he wanted, Carth's dogged determination had no place at the bargaining table. I was beginning to regret calling for him. The man was a hazard, and he seemed to have a chip the size of a small moon on his shoulder.

"Frankly, I'm inclined to agree with your companion. Things were better for us criminals when the Republic was running them. That, and the sith have a nasty habit of paying rewards with blaster bolts. I hear things were a bit more lucrative when Revan was in charge, there was a man with a proper appreciation for a credit, but Malak's a different story entirely."

Now it was my turn to growl and clench my drink too tightly. "Agreed. The man is a mad dog who should be put down."

Quirking an eyebrow at me, Kandon leaned back. "Oh? Personal grudge of some sort?"

"He took my ship," I answered, putting the right amount of bile that a small time smuggler would if someone had stolen their vessel. Technically speaking, it was true. Except Malak had taken ALL my ships. And my Alderaanian silk undies. I was really beginning to miss those. The new ones I had were cheap Republic issue, and they chaffed.

"Ah," Kandon nodded knowingly, "I understand. The sith have tried to take our bikes. It is much the same thing. Well, there's just one question left. Who's your pilot for the race? You, Ferc?"

"No, that would be Breni. She's an expert. Though I don't know how much of that will be needed. I plan on murdering Brejik and springing my landspeeder at the first opportunity."

"That might be difficult. She's been fitted with a neural brand. If Brejik senses foul play, he'll kill her before he lets someone else have her, out of spite if nothing else. Wasteful, but then Brejik never did have very good business sense."

I scowled. That did complicate things. Still, there were ways around that. Especially if one were an adept Force user. "I appreciate the tip. I'll find a way around it."

"Good, good," Kandon smiled and stood, half bowing to Carth and myself. "Well gentlemen, I look forward to working with you. I suggest you get a good night's rest; we've got a busy day ahead."

I stood and returned the bow, smiling and waving as Kandon and Baath left. Carth stood, but he didn't bow and mostly glared at the two of them as they left. We sat back down, and he took an angry pull of his ale. "I don't like that son of a nerf."

"Neither do I, but I think he's our best shot at Bastila, don't you?" I asked, taking a pull of my own drink. It wasn't the best I'd ever had, but considering where I was, it was sublime.

"Agreed. Gadon was a long shot, this guy seems to at least know where she is. If nothing else, he'll get us close enough to Brejik to beat the location out of him."

"Perhaps," I agreed. "We'll have to go in cautiously. I think it might be best if just Breni and I attended the race tomorrow. I'm a passable mechanic, and she's the pilot. Too many hangers on and Brejik might smell a womp rat."

Carth glowered at his drink, but he nodded his acceptance. "We'll do it your way, Ferc. You've led us well so far. I'll have to trust you, this time."

I stood and slapped the man on the back. "Capital! I'll go make the arrangements with Breni. Watch your back; some of these thugs are a bit grumpy that we just killed so many of their friends."

"I can look after myself," Carth groused. I left the man to his drink. Sometimes, there's just no being friendly with someone.

I found Breni and took her to some private quarters Kandon had given me. They were not exactly a The Cornelian, but they were probably above average for a gangster's hide out. Not my first choice for seducing someone, but you work with what you've got.

"So, that's the plan. Any questions?" I asked Breni, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder. We were sitting on the bed together, and I'd slowly drifted closer as we'd gone over our scheme to liberate Bastila. She didn't seem to mind at all, which was a good sign. If anything, she scooted a bit closer as well.

"Only one, do you think she'll be there?" Breni asked, biting her lip in the most endearing manner and looking at me with troubled eyes.

I cupped her face in my hand and gave her a languid smile. "Of course. I can feel it."

Reaching up, Breni put her own hand over mind. "Is that all you feel?" she asked, her voice husky.

I leaned in closer, close enough that I could feel her breath on my lips. "No."

Really, it was too easy after that. The clothes came off quickly enough, though Breni had all the nervous modesty and hesitation of a virgin. I was gentle and kind of course; there was no need to rush things. As we joined, I entered into her, mind and body. It's always more intense, more real when you're with a fellow Force user. There's a deep exchange on a level beyond even that of normal sex. Of course, this time, I was mostly doing the exchanging.

All it takes is a few tweaks. Damping a few inhibitions there. Strengthening some emotions there. A few subtle subconscious commands, and you have yourself a willing slave. We weren't even finished with our first time when I had sealed Breni to myself forever. She was now absolutely loyal to me, just as Sarna was. She would forever forsake the path of the jedi, and would do literally anything I commanded of her. Love is the most powerful of emotions, especially when it is as pure and innocent as Breni's was. It was almost a shame, having to corrupt and twist something so perfect to my own ends.

But then, Breni did seem to enjoy the entire process, and the several follow up sessions we managed before we finally collapsed from exhaustion. One more jedi turned. And a new apprentice gained. I'd never be so foolish as to take an apprentice like Malak again. Breni was just what I needed. And if things went well tomorrow, she would be just the beginning.

I would have my empire back. One way, or another.

The galaxy needs changing. And I'm the man to do it.

Authors Note:

Say hello to my new beta, theBSDude! He's agreed to help keep my more erratic english tendencies under control, so hopefully this story will be much easier for y'all to read now ;)

In other news, Bastilla next chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

The night before the race, I dreamed of a woman, laying on a cot, beaten and bruised. Pain seemed to suffuse her body, yet she did not whimper. A fog hung over her mind, a steady pressure that blocked high level processing. I felt panic rising, I could not sense the Force in the dream, as if it was hidden behind that pressure. In the dream, the woman was slowly, steadily pushing the pressure away. I could nearly sense the Force behind that curtain, its power calling to me. I willed the woman to succeed, to push harder, to-

"Master, what is wrong?"

I blinked sleep from my eyes and found Breni draped over me. Groaning, I closed my eyes again. "Nothing. Just a dream."

"Wouldn't you rather dream of me, Master?" Breni purred, rubbing up against me. It was painfully obvious what she wanted, but I had a headache and that dream had bothered me somehow.

"Not now, love; we've got work to do," I groaned, gently shoving Breni off me and sitting up at the bedside.

"Yes, work. Will you teach me more of your ways, Master?" Breni cooed, reaching up and pinching my shoulders.

"Ow! That hurts, what the bloody hell are you doing, Breni?" I demanded, flinching away from her.

She blushed and looked down. "I am sorry, Master; I was trying to give you a massage. I am afraid I don't have a great deal of practice at that."

Something was off about Breni. The way she was holding herself for one. It was all wrong. She had been smooth and graceful before, but now she seemed almost liquid, as if she were trying to melt all over me.

"Breni, are you feeling quite alright?" I asked, slowly turning around and studying her.

"Of course, Master; I can feel the power of the Dark side, calling to me!"

"You can do what?" I demanded, standing up and looking at her harder.

"The Dark side, it calls to me!" Breni moaned. She had dark circles under her eyes, as if she were weeping some sort of dark liquid...

"Breni, why are you wearing heavy mascara? I've never seen you with any make up, and now you're all dolled up like a Correllian whore."

"This is what the Sith wear, is it not, my Master?" Breni asked, standing and stretching, flaunting her breasts. She was wearing frilly black lingerie, Force only knows where she'd found it.

"Er, I don't think we really want to go running around declaring we're obvious Sith. I mean, we're not even really sith at this point. I was thinking more like Grey Knights. I read about those somewhere once. They seemed to manage not to be blind idiots of either flavor."

Breni blinked. "So, you're not going to teach me the mysteries of the Dark side?"

I threw up my hands in exasperation. "Well of course I'm going to teach you the mysteries of the Darkside, if by that you mean I'll teach you the more efficient ways of killing an opponent, and some of the more entertaining ways the force can be applied. But the whole theatrics thing really isn't my style. Well, OK, yes, I wore that mask for all those years, but that was because it amplified my abilities and it's only sensible to go into a warzone properly protected."

And it made sneaking off for a bit of fun easy, and dodging assassins child's play. Not to mention being terribly useful in my current situation.

Flushing a deep scarlet, Breni grabbed the bedsheets and covered herself with them. "Oh, oh, craters! You must think me a fool! I just thought-"

"-That ever bad stereotype that got whispered about in the Younglings quarters was true? Or that every cheesy holodrama that got smuggled in was an accurate representation of the Dark side?" I finished for her.

She drew the bed sheets up, nearly covering her face, her eyes peeking out as they filled with tears. "Yes..."

Sighing, I sat back down and put an arm around Breni's shoulders. "Listen, my very, very young apprentice. I've met Sith that behave the same as those actors in the melodramas you've seen. I'll let you in on a secret: they were the biggest bunch of ponces and ninnies I've ever seen in my life. You really, really don't want to end up like them. Take my old apprentice, Malak, for instance. He was into the melodrama and theatrics. The man's an ass. You're far too intelligent and wise to fall for that, right Breni?"

She nodded quickly, then lowered the blanket a bit. "But...I can keep some of the makeup, right? And call you Master?"

Ghosts of the Ancients help me. What had I done?

Later, after I'd gotten Sarna to teach Breni how to put on makeup properly (I could have done it myself, but that seemed a bit silly) I made my way to the Black Vulkar Cantina.

"Coffee. And eggs. If you don't have those, don't tell me: just serve up the nearest approximation," I ordered.

The aquilish bartender grunted something, and a few minutes later he plopped a steaming black mug and a plate of something yellow and warm on the table. I ate it quickly enough that I wasn't able to tell the difference, and longed for proper room service. If anything, I was going to become the ruler of the galaxy just so I could get a decent meal on a regular basis. The things you have to put up with when you're just a smuggler with a dinky blaster. Really, this was the worst holiday I'd ever had. And I'd taken holiday on Korriban once.

I was still ruminating on my awful lot in life when Carth came by and brightened my day. His scowl would have peeled the paint off the wall at 20 paces, though he did look freshly bathed and shaven. Oddly, Carth appeared to be one of those men who had a razor with a "perma-stubble setting." Honestly, if you're going to shave, either have it off, or don't bother. Personally I prefer to keep my cheeks nice and smooth. A beard is terribly itchy, and makes one seem rather brutish.

"I'll have what he's having," Carth grunted at the bartender, jerking his head at me. He took his plate after a minute and dropped it across from me, slumping in his seat and shoveling the food in with a will.

"Good morning Carth," I said evenly, sipping from my not-Coffee. Or maybe it was, but it tasted like burned wampa nuts.

"Race today. You think she'll be there?" Carth growled, glaring up at me.

I shrugged. "If she's not, I'll tie Brejik to a rail and tickle him until he tells."

"With a knife, I hope," Carth growled. "The Republic is in serious danger as long as Bastila is here on Taris. If Malak get's a hold of her, we're all doomed. I just hope you can actually pull this off, Ferc."

"I can," I snapped. "You've seen my skills. Really, have I given you any reason to doubt me? It's not like I asked to get dumped on this blasted world either, but I'm here now and I'll make the best of it as I can. You might try doing the same."

"Sorry," Carth blanched, setting down his fork. "It's not that I don't like you well enough, Ferc. You seem a decent sort of man, for a smuggler. I just don't trust you."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Do tell. After all we've been through, dodging Sith, killing gangsters, nearly getting killed at least a dozen times, you still don't trust me? By the void man, I could have sold you and Breni out for a small fortune! Surely you know that."

"You can never tell. Anyone can turn on you. No matter how close you think they are. I'll work with you, Ferc, but I don't trust you. Don't hold your breath waiting for me to do so either. The Republic has lost too many good men to false faith."

With that, Carth stalked away. The man was a pestilence, truly. If it wasn't for the fact that I was a horrid pilot and the man was a genius at a starship, I might have been tempted to drop him down a hole somewhere. I suppose I didn't really need him to trust me. Not that I could really blame him for not trusting me. I was the enemy of everything the fool seemed to believe in after all. And probably responsible for all those good men losing faith he was talking about. Best he didn't find out who I really was just yet then.

A bit later, the newly minted Breni and I saddled up with the Vulkars. She was dressed in black riding leathers, and I was pleased to see that Sarna had managed to properly touch her up, with a bit of eyeliner and light mascara that did wonders to bring out Breni's eyes. She looked positively roguish and altogether sexy. Not terribly apropos for a jedi, but exactly right for my apprentice. I'd had her conceal her lightsaber among her leathers, while I'd palmed the other. If I had to reveal my powers to break out Bastila, I was willing to do it. She was valuable enough to make it worth the risk. Even if the follow up plan was to kill everyone that saw me with a lightsaber.

We arrived early, the better to scope out the competition. Kadon was there with his heavies, and I was working with the other grease monkeys wearing coveralls and a visor that concealed my features nicely. I'd never worked on a swoopbike before, but the principles of the things were easy enough to grasp for someone who'd built a couple of droids.

I do dislike getting my hands dirty most of the time, but there's a special joy in creating something or in fixing a problem. A machine isn't all the different from the galaxy's political systems really. Plenty of little things beneath the surface that guide the true follower of power, and a man with the right tools and knowledge can make the entire thing dance to his own tune. Just one of the reasons I love working with machines. That, and they're terribly convenient to sabotage if you ever need to get rid of someone quietly.

Before long, a group of burly armed men sauntered up, Bastila between them. Breni glanced over at me, but I shook my head and bent back down to my work. As tempting as it was to simply slice our way to freedom now, we were far better off winning the prize the proper way and leaving without making a fuss. Granted, the odds of that were rather low considering what my new friend had told me, but one could hope. I was just bending down to tighten a rivet on a bike when someone cleared their voice and called for attention.

"Brejik, leader of the mighty Black Vulkars, and sponsor of today's race has an announcement to make," a dignified looking elderly rodian declared, then shuffled off to the side.

A young, handsome man in heavy armor strode forward, carrying a small object. I watched him closely, nodding to myself. He walked with deadly grace and poise, and arrogant tilt to his head and a self absorbed smile on his face. I waited to hear him speak, wondering just what Brejik would have to say.

But instead of speaking, he bent down and set the object on the ground, it was a disk of some sort. Then he stepped back and this tiny human man waddled forward on short legs. He stepped onto the disk, which raised him up until he was at eye level for a wookiee.

"My fwends, I welcome awl of you twoo the Tawis Season Opener of the Swoop Bwike Championship!" the little man declared.

My jaw dropped. Brejik was a dwarf. A dwarf with a lisp. Was this really the man everyone had been so terrified of? Seriously? How had he captured a jedi?

"Twodays pwize is dis woman you see befwor you, a jedi! Fwesh twoo: barwly spoiwled and hawrdly widden at awl!"

The crowd chuckled lecherously at the poor joke, and I had to stop myself from shaking my head. This was going to be much too easy.

"Wet the wace begwin!" Bwejik decwared. Sorry, sorry. It's just...a dwarf? Honestly, I didn't see that one coming.

The race started, and I patted Breni on the shoulder as she mounted her bike. "Luck to you. You'll be fine, just watch your instruments and don't do anything stupid."

She wrinkled her nose at me. "Aren't you supposed to say 'May the Force be with you' and tell me to trust my feelings?"

"Don't be dense; you've got the bloody instruments for a reason. Use the Force to enhance your reflexes and sense dangers, but it's a tool, not a crutch. Honestly, what are they teaching padawans these days?"

With that, they were off. Well, sort of. As it turned out, swoop bikes raced in heats. Which meant instead of one big race altogether, riders blasted down the track one at a time and tried for the best time. It was hardly racing. I mean, where was the chance to try and off your opponent by slamming them into a wall, or shooting them off the bike with a concealed blaster? It was almost like the race coordinators had taken that sort of thing into account, seeing as most everyone racing was one brand of lunatic or criminal or another. Like my drunk-on-the-Dark-side kleptomaniac apprentice.

I kept an eye on Bastila while Breni ran her heat. The woman was obviously in pain, and there was a neural dampener on her. Smart of Brejik really, because without that I was fairly certain Bastila would have made him even shorter than he already was by about a head. Which was where a considerable amount of his height was anyway. Again, I apologize. The short jokes are just too easy really.

After her first heat, Breni was ahead of the pack, but not quite at the top. An Obvious Bek rider was ahead of her, as was Brejik's own personal swoop jockey.

"Don't worry about it. Your first time was good. You know the track better now, and what the bike can do. Open her up all the way, and try and ride the least time line. That's what your nav-computers there for after all," I instructed as I helped tune up Breni's bike between her heats.

She nodded, biting her lip. "This is actually rather fun. I'll have to do this again sometime. Probably not when the fate of the galaxy is riding on the whole thing though. Sort of takes the fun out of it."

"Breni, I can't even begin to tell you how much I can empathize with that particular sentiment," I declared, keeping my tone droll.

Her next two heats were even better, easily giving Breni the top time. Brejik's rider almost caught her on his last run, but Breni was two-tenths of a second ahead of him. I'm told in swoop bikes, that counts for a lot, but I have my own view on near things. Almost only counts in bantha shoes, grenades, and proton torpedoes.

With the race over, I was sort of hoping that Brejik wasn't as poor a loser as Kadon had said he was. Naturally, I was only disappointed.

"Ywou chweated Kwadon!" Brejik snarled, spittle flying as he used his little stood to put him a few centimetres above Kadon.

"Brejik, I don't understand the hostility! We're all Vulkars here, are we not? Give my girl her prize and let my boys have a little fun with her for a night or two. If you pay me well enough, perhaps I can let you have her back," Kadon soothed.

"Nwo dweal! The jwedi is mine! Ywou work fwor ME Kwadon! Bwest you wemember dat!"

"Well then, I guess we do this the hard way," Kadon sighed. Then he let out a shrill whistle. "Oh boys!"

Kadon's bruisers stepped forward, hefting their blasters menacingly. Breni advanced with her vibrosword out, and I reached into a tool box and pulled out my blaster.

"Tweason! I knew it! Kwadon you wat, you'wll pway fowr dis!" Brejik ranted.

"Somehow, I doubt that," Kadon declared, giving Brejik a cocky grin. "Goodbye Brejik. You shan't be missed."

Before Brejik could pull the trigger, the dwarf suddenly glowed with a powerful energy field. The thugs opened up, and I did the same, several of my bolts striking home. After a moment, we ceased fire, the energy field still surrounding Brejik. "I'd sway you'wll weegwet dis Kadon, but you and youw men won't wive wong enough to do so."

What I next beheld, I can safely say, was one of the most ludicrous and astonishing things I'd ever seen my life. The dwarf jumped. A full two meters, with, I shit you not, a short bladed green lightsaber in his hands. He sliced off Kadon's head, neat as you please, a maniacal grin on his face. Then he turned to his guards. "Kwill dem!"

With another bound, Brejik jumped among Kadon's guards, his tiny lightsaber flashing like a knife. I could see he wasn't fencing with it, not like a proper master, merely using it as a sort of lightbludgeon that could turn his foes into meaty bits in moments.

"Breni, now's a good time to switch to your real weapon!" I shouted, dropping my blaster and drawing out the stolen lightsaber. I lit it off and leapt into the fray.

"Swo! Youw fwancy youwself a jwedi do you, hmmm?" Brejik giggled, dropping into a guard position as Breni and I advanced on the little man. Well, maybe not so little. It takes a serious pair of stones, or at least being properly bonkers, to slaughter a group of men all bigger than you with blasters. "I'wl have you know dat I've kwilled WEAL jwedi befowe. Dis watest wone is just my most wesent conquewst."

I rolled my eyes. "Never heard that one before."

Breni and I jumped forward, and once again the dwarf sprang toward us. I saw he was using some sort of powered armor to propel himself, and I had to admit he was damnably effective. He kept both Breni and I at bay, twirling around his tiny saber and hopping about like a gungan on a caffeine binge. After a few moments I grew tired of the charade.

"You know," I grunted, fending off the latest of Brejik's attacks. "You're quite good. I just feel really bad. I should have told you earlier, really."

"What's dat?" Brejik snarled, jumping at me again.

"Friction's a bitch," I answered evenly, and held out my hand to Brejik, stopping him in mid-flight, leaving him floating in mid air. "And I'm not exactly limited to just my lightsaber. That's a neat trick you've got, but any Force user worth their salt would have figured out how to beat you in a second."

"Pwut me down!" Brejik screamed, turning red as a beet and flailing around in mid air.

"Well, if you insist," I agreed. Then tossed the little annoyance out onto the swoop bike track. Just as another bike sped by. Brejik hit with a satisfyingly wet crunch, then careened off onto one of those grav boosters. He was flung into the distance, off into the darkness of the lower city.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," I growled, then flicked off my lightsaber and stowed it on my belt. I turned to Brejik's two remaining guards, who were looking as though they would rather be anyplace but here at the moment.

"Gentlemen, perhaps you could see a way to let us have our companion and find another line of work. Your current employer seems to have caught a rather bad case of the deads."

"We don't want no trouble," one of the thugs declared, backing towards the cage with his hands raised.

I was about to answer when Bastila sprang into motion. She grabbed the shock-stick at the gangsters waist, then jammed it in his neck. Then she blasted the cage open with the force and performed an entirely superfluous combat roll out into the open, grabbing up a fallen vibroblade and sticking it into the second guard's gut.

"That's what you get for imprisoning a jedi!" she snarled, then jerked the blade out smoothly. She flicked the blade to get the blood off, then turned to face me and Breni.

"Breni, good to see you. I feared all the others had been killed when no one came after me. I see you've managed to procure some of the help as well. Come, we've got to find a way off this miserable rock. Oh, and have you got any clean clothes. This bit I'm wearing is simply dreadful. That nasty little dwarf Brejik made me wear it. Where is he? I'd dearly love to teach him a lesson."

"He went for a bit of a stroll," I quipped. "Don't know when he'll be back. Probably not anytime soon."

I was answered with a glare and a sniff. "I was talking to Breni, not to you, Scruffy McWhatsyourname. Try to be silent when grownups are talking."

"Bastila, you do know who this is?" Breni squeaked, going rather pale and nervously glancing at me.

"Oh yes, he's that smuggler with no ship we picked up as one of the masters charity projects, isn't he? I'm glad he's made himself useful. Don't fear Breni, I'm sure the masters will give him whatever pretty cash reward he's asked for. I am their most valuable apprentice after all. Alas, I carry a heavy burden, but I shall bear it nobly."

With that, Bastila strode off down the corridor, holding her sword at her side.

I leaned down to Breni and whispered, "She does know that I'm Revan and that your masters have supposedly mind wiped me into thinking I'm Ferc Kyja, right?"

"Well yes, she was on the strike team," Breni hissed. "She was in on the whole thing! I can't imagine what's gotten into her!"

"Breni, stop talking to the help and get a move on. We've got a lot to do. Who else is with you? Do tell me you managed to find someone a bit more competent and less scruffy than this ruffian. If you haven't, this is going to be ever so difficult," Bastila called, not even bothering to turn around.

Breni and I both gaped open mouthed at her as she continued to saunter away. And not because of her shapely bum either. A woman can have the most shapely bum in the world, but with a personality like that they're positively repulsive. That, and I'm not sure Breni was into woman's bums just yet. I'd have to expand her tastes.

"Shall I kill her, my Lord?" Breni hissed once she managed to get her jaw shut.

I shook my head, closing my own mouth and grimacing. "No. If there's killing to be done, I'll be spaced if I won't be the one to do it. Blast, if I'd known she was this much of a spoiled brat I wouldn't have bothered." I let out a heavy sigh. "Come on, we'd best play along for now. Hopefully we can get her off this planet and find a way to use her to properly conquer the galaxy."

_Authors Note:_

_Protip; If you don't find someone's body, they're a recurring villain._


	10. Chapter 10

The galaxy has a cruel sense of humor. It seems to me, that the more vital an individual is to one's plans, the more likely it is that one cannot stand to be in their presence for any extended period of time. Take for example my esteemed former apprentice Malak. The man was a bore, with a sense of humor that made a hutt seem lively and a wit that was about as sharp as gamorian's. Being in his company was a torment.

And as I listened to Bastila rant, I was longing for the man's company. I have in the past heard women be referred to as "shrews" or "bitchy" or other unmentionable appellations. Previously I had believed that the gentlemen who had decided to label their female companions as such had simply been bores incapable of charm or manners, and if they had simply made themselves more likeable they would have found those women as much more approachable. Now, I was beginning to commiserate with them.

"Now, Breni, we'll have to find a way off the planet. Honestly, I find it rather shocking that you haven't even considered the possibility that we would require some method of egress before now," Bastila was saying.

I rolled my eyes. "It had indeed crossed our minds, jedi, but we were a tad preoccupied with trying to save your life."

She sniffed, ignoring my comment. "And the help you've chosen! Honestly, did you manage to find anyone competent? I know you're close to making knight so you should know better than to think either of us could fly a ship ourselves. We'll have to find someone."

"Carth Onasi also survived, in case you were curious. He seems to be a perfectly capable pilot," I replied. "Now that we've found you we can set about acquiring a proper ship."

"Frank, do you have a ship?" Bastila demanded, stopping in her tracks and turning to glare at me."

"It's Ferc, not Frank. And if I did, what would it matter? The sith are shooting anything that-" I began, but Bastila cut me off.

"If not, then kindly let those of us who know what we're doing talk, or I'll be forced to locate another reprobate to carry my luggage. Now, Breni, a ship?"

The poor girl looked at me, biting her lip. "Um, Bastila, Ferc has been the one leading us, and he did manage to rescue you. I think-"

"Rescue me!" Bastila laughed, shaking her head with amusement. "Breni, did you see Ferc open my cage? Or kill my guards? That was me. Besides, surely it was you taking charge. You'll be up for knighthood soon, and everyone knows the masters are looking for leadership in those trials."

Actually, they were more looking for people who could spew forth the proper dogma with a straight face and pass their ridiculous tests of character. They did a rather poor job of it too, seeing as someone like me had made knight. I held my peace though, and contemplated just how much of the force I would need to subdue Bastila.

A bit too much probably. It was one thing to turn a woman who had willingly come to my bed and was already opening herself to me. I'd never actually tried to force my will upon a woman who hadn't, and the thought of rape left a rather bitter taste in my mouth. As I've said before, there are lines you simply should not cross, not to mention the inherent risks. A jedi was hard enough to tame when you were only subtly shifting their psyche. Trying to force myself on Bastila would likely end rather badly, either because I damaged her mind to the point where she was useless, or because the controls broke at the wrong moment. So, mind raping her into submission was off the table.

Of course, while I do have moral compunctions against rape, I have very few against killing. Death is so very permanent though, and Bastila could still be useful. Besides, something seemed off about her. Not the arrogance; the jedi do breed a very special kind of hubris, especially in gifted apprentices. No, what bothered me was that she was behaving this way despite the fact that she should have known that I was actually Darth Revan. It's one thing to mouth off to the hired help, another to the man who had twice brought the galaxy to its knees. Either Bastila was an idiot, had balls bigger than any other jedi I'd ever met, or she had no idea who I was. The last sounded impossible, and yet….

I watched her as we walked, and she seemed completely at ease. Not the false relaxation that a trained combatant falls into when they think danger is near, but that of a proud man who thinks himself completely safe. It wasn't proof, if Bastila was a good enough actress she might be able to bluff me if this was some ploy on her part. But it left a niggling suspicion at the back of my mind.

Before long I got a call from Carth, which I took while I dropped back a bit to allow Bastila to harangue Breni. I felt bad for the girl, but better her than me.

"What's the situation?" I asked over the comm.

"The Vulkars are collapsing. I don't know what you did Ferc, but evidently you got most of their senior leadership killed. The Beks are at the door, and a dozen petty bosses are fighting it out for control. Sarna, Mission, the wookiee and I have gotten out, and we're heading back to the apartment. We'll have to regroup there. Did you find Bastila?"

"Yes, she's with me now. I'd say she's alright, but she's turned out to be more trouble than she might be worth."

Carth let out a heavy sigh. "Try not to strangle her, Ferc. I know she can be a pain in the ass, but she's vital to the survival of the Republic. Besides, you seem to have a way with women. Perhaps she'll warm up to you. In fact, I think you should handle the whole thing. You've been doing a good job of leading us until now, and I don't want to get in your way."

With that, the son of a hutt hung up on me. I glared at my communicator, then pocketed it again. The burdens of leadership. I had better, at the very least, get a pair of Alderaanian silk undies out of this.

"Breni, the Vulkars are under siege. We'd best head back to the apartment," I called, motioning for her to follow after me and turning away. Bastila could follow or not.

Breni caught up to me after a moment, and right after her came Bastila. "What do you mean, the Vulkars are under siege? You didn't ally yourself with them, did you? They tortured me!"

"It seemed the most expedient way to rescue you, jedi," I answered, hoping that would shut her up. I should have known better.

"Rescue me?" Bastila sputtered. "Why do you insist on perpetuating that you were in any way responsible for that! I freed myself, and anyway, if anyone were to have helped me, I'm sure it would have been Breni."

"I only did what my Lo- what Ferc told me to do Bastila," Breni protested.

The other woman snorted in derision. "If that's what you wanted him to think Breni, fine. More than a few of the masters like to play the puppeteer. But there's no need now that I'm with you."

"But I-" Breni began, but Bastila trampled right over her. I stopped listening. This girl was a positive pain the arse, no mistake. Why was it that the people we need most are often those that are the most detestable?

It took far too long to get back to the hideout, but by then Bastila had either run out of steam or took my silence for a sign that she had cowed me, rather than the murderous contemplation it was. I opened the door to find myself face to face with the massive mandalorian from earlier, Canderous. I sprang back out of the man's reach and drew both my blasters, shoving Breni and Bastila out of the way.

"Ha! You've got good reflexes. No need for that, Revan. I bear you no enmity."

I glared at him, and was about to say something caustic about being free with names, when a palm struck my face hard enough to make me see stars. "Oaf! How dare you strike me!"

Ears ringing, I stumbled, then glared at Bastila, then my vision cleared to see a murderous looking Breni with an upraised dagger in her hand. "There's no need for that!" I growled, looking right at my over-eager apprentice. Really, even after that lecture, she still went for the lethal option like that? What are they teaching padawans these days?"

"I shall decide what is and is not necessary on this expedition. To strike a commanding officer carries the most severe of penalties, Ferc Kyja!" Oh, now she got my name right. Well, at least the name I was supposed to be going by. "Be grateful that I do not have a surplus of soldiers at the moment, or you would be hauled away in chains. And who is this brute?"

"Someone I need to talk to," I answered, turning my gaze back to the mandalorian. He was smiling. Widely. Maybe there would be less talking and more killing. No, no, that would set a horrible example. Now was not the time to set a precedent for impressionable children.

"Well, clear him out. I need to change and bathe, and I have no desire to do so with two ruffians in my chambers. Come, Breni, we needs must talk."

"Come on, son of Malachor. Let us parley," I growled.

Canderous came out, and the two jedi went in. I folded my arms across the chest. "My name is Ferc Kyja. Now you know who I am. I know your name, mandalorian, but not your clan. Tell me who your are and what your purpose is, or must our weapons talk for us?"

The brute laughed again, long and loud. I reminded myself that blood was terribly hard to get out of clothes, and I only had the one set. "You name yourself 'Ferc Kyja' and ask my name, Revan? Truly, did I not know your worth already, I would be insulted."

"I am Ferc Kyja. I don't know where you got this idea that I'm Revan. Ask anyone: he's dead."

"Perhaps the fact that you make a habit of introducing yourself to everyone as Revan, wield strange powers, have a lover who is obviously a dark jedi, and have defeated Brejik the Jedi Killer in single combat. Not to mention you obviously know the ways of the clans. There are few enough outsiders who know them, and even fewer who are great warriors. And but one who is a jedi."

Upon reflection, perhaps telling everyone that I was Revan had been a mistake. Of course, I hadn't thought that anyone would take me seriously, and I'd given them the Ferc handle right after. "I just slept with a mandalorian woman a few times, that's all. Her pillow talk was terribly boring, but she was a rancor in the sack."

"Do not lie to me, Revan. I came to treat with you, man to man. It is obvious who you are. The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you fight. I saw what you did to Brejik. You can use the force, and you wield a scarlet blade with the skill few have, and yet you fight with wisdom, not ferocity alone. You are the Bane of Mandalore, and no other."

"Oh bloody hell, fine, I'm Revan, former dark lord of the sith. But blast, man, keep it quiet, will you? It's all well and good if some hear the name and take it as a jest, but if Malak learns it, he won't stop until he's reduced this planet to cinders! I'd destroy him in a fair fight, or several of the rather unfair ones I plan to face him in, but against his fleet, I'd fry the same as you. To you and everyone else, I'm Ferc Kyja the scoundrel. Now tell me who you are and what you're doing here, or I'll add another notch to my hilt."

"I am Canderous, of Clan Ordo. I come with a way off this planet for the both of us, one that does not involve us being reduced to atoms."

I perked up at that. This warrior might know who I really was, but having him on my side made that all for the good. The mandalorians were fierce, and loyal if you had them on your side. Really, it was a pity I'd had to reduce them to splinters before they yielded. They would have made a most excellent army if I could have turned them to my side intact.

"Well then, Canderous Ordo, I greet you as a friend and brother. Tell me, how would you have us get off this miserable ball of dirt?"

"I work for the Exchange," Canderous explained. "Specifically for Davik Kang, the most powerful of the bosses. It's a crummy job, but it pays well and it was fairly cushy. Not enough bloodshed, but then, after Malachor, what would ever hold that for me again? Davik has a ship. A fast one, called the Ebon Hawk. He plans to get off the planet with it, but he lacks the codes for the orbital defenses. Without those even the fastest ship would never get past the blockade."

"And you have a way to circumnavigate this obstacle?" I prompted when Canderous paused.

"A chance only. One I cannot take myself, as I lack the finesse to carry it out. Give me a fortress to storm or a world to conquer, and I can do it, but infiltration and deception is not the way of the warrior. You though...your skills at deception and misdirection are legendary."

I smiled wanly. "Flattering, truly. What you are saying is you have a plan, but it involves extreme danger to my person, and only a slim chance of success. Why should I go along with this plan?"

"Because poor or not, it is our best chance of getting off this rock. Davik ordered an advanced astromech droid. With it, you could break into the sith base and download the codes. Then, I take you to Davik. Now that Calo's gone, it would be simple enough to overpower his guards and take the ship for ourselves."

I didn't let my face show it, but this was actually a fantastic plan. Getting into the sith base was going to be childs play for someone who had written every protocol in existence and knew the sith bureaucracy inside and out. Not to mention having a sith officer on the payroll. Picking up a shiney new astromech droid and ship in the bargain was beyond anything I'd hoped for. I'd already planned on hitting up the sith base for the codes, but I'd thought to steal some tramp freighter or hyper-capable shuttle. Getting a warlord's private ship instead was a much better idea.

"You ask much of me, and offer little in return. Why should I risk myself that you may earn all the glory?" I demanded.

"The glory shall be yours, and the command. I know who you are. I have lead men, but I am nothing compared to one such as you. I would follow you gladly. You will want revenge against those who have wronged you, and that means blood. Enough blood to satisfy even me. That will be reward enough."

"Fine. I suppose I can come up with something, if that really is our best way off the planet. Just make sure you can get us to the ship."

Canderous chuckled again. "Davik already wants me to find and hire you. You killed Calo and defeated the dwarf. You're a hot commodity, Ferc."

I grunted, then heard footsteps coming up the hall. I put my hand on my blaster, and Canderous turned to face the newcomers. I put a hand on him to calm him; it was only Carth and the rest.

"Canderous!" Mission cried, running forward to hug the big man. "What are you doing here? Did you hear? Those rotten Vulkars are all defeated, all thanks to Ferc! I knew he was a nice guy, no way he was actually willing to throw in with those losers!"

Actually, I would have been more than happy to profit from a Vulkar victory, but I wasn't terribly discomforted by their demise either.

Canderous looked down at the blue child who barely came up to his chest. "So I have heard. What are you doing here, child? Are you with the smuggler as well?"

"I would ask the same of you, mandalorian. My ward may trust you, but I know you too well to think you are here out of any sense of charity or devotion. What is your scheme?" Zaalbar growled, coming forward with a hand on his vibrosword.

"He's here with a way off this planet," I explained. "Sarna, I need to talk to you. We need to pick up a droid, some handcuffs, and mood music; and do a recording session."

"Of course, my lord," Sarna answered, keeping her blaster ready. She was very pointedly not looking at Canderous. Wise of her. He was certainly dangerous, and I wasn't entirely certain of his loyalties yet.

"Where's Bastila, Ferc?" Carth asked, obviously uninterested in my scheme.

"Inside," I said, keeping my face neutral.

"Thanks." Carth stepped forward and opened the door. There was a shriek of outrage, and I felt someone drawing hard on the force. Carth was flung backward, and the door slammed shut. He landed on his posterior with a grunt. Glaring at me, Carth dusted himself off and stood. "You could have mentioned that she was showering."

"And you could have mentioned she was a trollip, but alas, on occasion such things slip one's mind," I answered mildly.

He grunted. "Fair enough. Any part for me in your plan? One that takes me far away from here for about as long as it takes a jedi to forgive and forget?"

That brought something else to my mind, and I dug in my pouch for some data slates, which I passed to the man. "I know it's back the way you came, but would you mind taking these to those wretches we found in the Undercity? I think it's a map to their promised land. The old man there did me a favor. I'd like to return the courtesy."

"As long as it gets me out away from the princess for a while, I'm your man," Carth declared, and grabbed the data slates, limping away as he rubbed his bruised behind.

"Wow, what kind of mynok did you find, Ferc?" Mission asked, making a face. "I mean, Carth isn't that bad looking. I certainly wouldn't toss him out if he saw me in the shower."

"That would be my job. I think the man is far too prudent for such an action," Zaalbar declared.

Canderous shrugged. "The jedi were always arrogant. They are strong, and pride is the right of those who wield power..

"Or those too stuck up to know the difference between power and privilege," I muttered. "Sarna, come on. Mission, tell the mynok I've gone to secure a ship, and have Breni meet me by the sith base as soon as she can. Zaalbar, try not to kill Bastila. Or maim her all that badly."

With that, Sarna and I left the group to their various tasks, and Canderous departed for his master's mansion after giving me the order form for the droid. A plan was already beginning to form in my head. I was going to get off this rock yet.


End file.
